


Teamwork

by PinkPandorafrog



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Consent, F/M, It gets AU, Kinda, Multi, PWP, Plot happens, Rumlow porn, Rumlow redemption, Sex Pollen, a little bit BDSM-y, and then plot, more just rough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:59:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3501011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/pseuds/PinkPandorafrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy has one last assignment with Rumlow and Rollins before she gets a new team. She's not quite done with them yet...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The last thing Darcy had expected after what happened in London was that she would get an actual paying job. With _SHIELD_. But two of SHIELD's best and brightest thugs had shown up at her flat one day, and driven her out to where Coulson and his team of agents were picking through the rubble that was the Old Royal Naval College (sorry guys, but it totally hadn't been her fault).

It hadn't exactly been her first choice, but SHIELD was quickly deciding that she was entirely too involved in everything that was going on to be left running around on her own. She had a very particular set of skills... Liam Neeson she was _not_ , but apparently her experience with certain things Asgardian, theoretical physics, and her mad poli sci skills made her uniquely qualified to do a lot of... well... she _tactfully_ talked to a lot of people. Also did a lot of poking around obscure ruins and shit. Apparently SHIELD's big thing was aliens, maybe that fluffy-haired guy on the History channel had been right.

She had a team, too, if by team you meant _guys what were there to keep her alive_. They did a pretty good job of it, too, whether it was from 'hostile parties' (that only happened a few times) or bizarre alien booby-traps. It was the same guys who'd shown up at the flat in London to not-kidnap her, and they spent most of their time just standing around.

They were in the middle of the jungle. It was hot. Like, fucked-up, ridiculously hot. And fucking just... The humidest shit that ever humided. Her hair was beyond frizzy. “When we get out of here, I'm going to staple my ass to an air conditioning unit,” Darcy muttered, squinting at the rock face in front of her. Her eyes scanned the rough, dusty surface, then she shook her head and turned around, sitting down on her ass right where she was. “There's nothing here. Thank you, SHIELD brain team, for wasting our time. Super appreciate it.” Not that she was bitter or anything. But this was her _seventh_ rock face in the middle of dripping-hot nowhere, and she was just _done_.

Jack nudged her arm, and she took the canteen that he offered. “Thanks. I'm basically one big sweat drop right now.”

“Sure.”

“I hear you guys get a sweet new assignment after this. That you'll actually, you know, see some action. STRIKE or something?” Darcy rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Seriously, I bet Fury does nothing but sit behind his desk to think up fun new acronyms that are actual words. Don't miss me too much.”

“Bet we don't work with anyone else with legs like those.” Brock's eyes traveled up the length of her legs where they were stretched out in front of her.

She stared at him for a second. He looked impossibly cool as a cucumber in his black tactical outfit. “You're a leg man? Really? I would have thought you were an ass man.” When he shrugged, she did too. “I hear Captain America has some nice legs.”

He gave her a look. “He's not really my type.”

“He's mine. Have you seen him?” Darcy let her mind play back the last clip she'd seen of _aw, shucks, call me Steve_ on some late night show. His shoulders had basically threatened to split his shirt the entire time. She handed the canteen back to Jack, and he took a drink before capping it. “I don't know if he's really a throw-a-girl-on-the-bed kinda guy, but I'm holding out hope that he's a lady on the streets and a freak between the sheets.”

Brock snorted with amusement.

“Not that I'm complaining, but shouldn't you be wearing pants?” Jack asked, eying her legs in some speculation, as though he was just now noticing that she was in shorts. “I just killed a mosquito the size of a pigeon.”

“I am field-testing Dr. Simmons' latest insect repellent. Seems to be working pretty well, I haven't been bitten once.” She contemplated her own legs for a second. Sunburn wasn't an issue, there was enough canopy above them that they were completely in the shade. “Seriously, sometimes I think SHIELD keeps me around for my willingness to just test random shit for them.”

“What are you going to do after this?” he asked. He lowered himself to sit beside her and was leaning against the rock the same as she was, but he had that same alertness thing Brock had going on, his gray eyes constantly moving about.

“Hand didn't say. There was some talk about giving me to Coulson.” She shrugged again, trailing her fingertips through the dirt beneath her. “Tell you what, as long as there's air conditioning on that Bus of theirs, I really don't give a shit.”

“You about done here?” Brock asked, voice cutting right through the relaxation.

Darcy sighed, twisting her head to look over her shoulder at the rock face, then turning to look back at him. “Yeah. There's nothing here. We in a hotel tonight, or are you flying us back to the Hub?”

He gave her another look. “Shitty hotel where I won't even be able to drink the water, or a shower and my own bed at the Hub? What do you think?”

“I dunno, I just... You know... I don't want you staying up too late. I know you can get tired more easily as you get older.” She gave him a too-sweet smile, gathering her legs under her in preparation to get up.

Jack was already on his feet, though, and he offered her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her easily to her feet.

“Something tells me I'd last longer than you would, little girl,” Brock shot back, and she snorted.

“Yeah. Who is it who puts the quinjet on auto-pilot and fucking naps up there?” She dropped Jack's hand and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “I have never once napped on the quinjet.” She made a face, looking down at her shirt. “I will not miss this boob sweat, seriously.”

Brock shook his head. “Hit up my bunk for a drink after you finish washing that off and we'll see who lasts longer.” He started walking towards the cloaked quinjet, and Darcy fell in step behind him, Jack bringing up the rear.

Darcy's eyebrows went up as she looked at the back of his head. “Aren't you going to find some cute Level 2 to impress with how dangerous your job was out here, and you're so lucky to be alive, and you just want to celebrate making it back to base?”

He shot a smirk over his shoulder. “I'll have enough more than enough time for that, we're headed to the Triskelion. Just thought... It's our last night as a team, we should commemorate or something.”

Darcy shot a look over her shoulder to Jack, who shrugged. “Okay. I'll commemorate. Just remember, no-”

“Whiskey,” he cut her off drily. “Believe me, little girl, I remember.” Yeah, that had been a bad night. She'd ended up huddled on the bathroom floor in their shitty hotel, a cold cloth on her forehead and feeling like she just wanted to die. No more whiskey, ever.

He stopped moving and bent his head to fiddle with the doohickey attached to his belt. The quinjet shimmered into view, uncloaking just ahead of them, and the ramp slowly lowered with a mechanical whir.

Darcy felt Jack's broad back bump against her shoulders, and steadied herself against stumbling forward. He was narrowing his field of protection or whatever in preparation for getting on the jet, but he didn't need to bring it in _that_ much.

“Sorry,” he offered, not sounding in the least bit like he meant it.

“No you're not.” But she was used to it. He did this every single time. If pressed, she might even say she might miss it. Maybe.

She stayed where she was as Brock walked onto the quinjet, long since used to the proper procedure for getting on. She _knew_ that there was no one on board, but things had to be done in the proper way, or she would be bodily picked up, tossed over Brock's shoulder, and returned to the ground outside, and _lectured_. So she stood there and waited, pushing her toe against the damp ground cover until he announced it was clear, then walked up the ramp.

Brock always flew, Jack settled in the seat next to him, leaving Darcy the narrow bench in the back. “I am not going to miss traveling like this,” she said as the quinjet rose up into the air. “My ass is always numb before we get even halfway to where we're going.”

\---

Debriefing was boring, as it always was. And uncomfortable, because Darcy felt sticky and salty and really just needed a shower. But eventually they were let out, and she made her way to her bunk. She _was_ being given to Coulson, they were flying her out for a rendezvous in the morning.

In the meantime, though, she had a long, hot shower. It was _great_ not to feel all sticky anymore. She didn't bother drying her hair, just tossed it into a ponytail before getting dressed and heading over to Brock's bunk.

The door was open when she got there, Brock and Jack were already inside. It was just a basic bunk, exactly like hers- bed, single chair, table tucked into the corner, chest-of-drawers at the head of the bed with a door for the tiny bathroom beside the chest-of-drawers.

“Shut the door, little girl,” Brock instructed as she slipped into the small room, and Darcy pushed the door shut behind her. “Have a seat.”

Jack was occupying the chair, so she stepped over his and Brock's feet to go and have a seat on the bed, a little way down from Brock. There was a trio of glasses on the table, filled with _something_ in the amber range of what she assumed was alcohol. No ice.

She eyed them dubiously. “What are we drinking?”

“Just take a fucking glass,” Brock told her lightly, and she shrugged and reached over and grabbed a glass off the table.

He stood up and leaned over to do the same, and Jack picked up the last glass. Brock lifted his glass up in the air and glanced between Darcy and Jack. “To the team,” he said before knocking it back.

Darcy raised her glass as well before bringing to her lips and taking a tentative sip. Across from her, Jack did the same. “Tequila?” The good kind, too, with a nice smooth, slightly smoky flavor. She took another drink. “Shit, Brock, where've you been hiding this?”

“Saving it for a special occasion.”

“That's probably a good idea; if I'd known you had this in here, I would have sneaked in and stolen it while you were putting the moves on some hapless Level 2.” She took another long drink, not _quite_ finishing her glass before putting it back on the table.

Brock looked down at her. “Didn't pour it for decoration.”

“Yeah, but if I drink it too quickly, my clothes are going to start vanishing.”

“No one in here's going to complain,” Jack said, nudging her glass closer to her.

She looked between them, eyebrows raised. They were both staring at her, matching intensity in both pairs of eyes, one gray and one brown. “I could have sworn you guys have seen my boobs before.” Sometimes changing in the back of the quinjet was a necessity, and it didn't exactly come with a privacy curtain.

“Doesn't mean we don't want to see them again,” Brock told her from where he was still on his feet between them, looking down at her.

“Yeah, we'll see.” Darcy picked up her glass again and finished off the last third before setting it back on the table. She was warm again, but not uncomfortably so like she had been in the jungle. This was the pleasant kind of warmth that spread gently through her body, not the oppressive external kind. “Can't say I'll miss those shitty hotels we always ended up in.” She looked over at the man in the chair again. “Or your fucking snoring. Seriously, Jack.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “What I don't understand is how someone so small takes up so much room when she sleeps.”

She grinned, enjoying the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his black t-shirt. “What can I say? I'm a beautiful butterfly, I need to spread my wings.”

“What about your legs?”

Darcy's breath caught for a second as she looked up at Brock again. He was completely serious, apparently. “Um?” was what she managed.

He reached down, one hand closing over her upper arm as the other one put his empty glass on the table. He pulled her up, shifting a little in the confined space until she was pressed between him and- was that Jack's solid torso behind her? A second pair of hands settled on her hips. “I said...” His voice was low and raspy, sending a shiver down her spine. “... I want to you to spread your legs so we can fuck.” He hit the final _k_ extra hard. Her eyes were locked on his mouth; the way his lips formed the words seemed vaguely pornographic.

“Um.” Vocabulary was just gone. Like, just completely _gone_. Words were there, they just weren't connecting with her mouth.

He let go of her arm, instead grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling up until it was off and then just gone. “How about you, Jack?” he asked, keeping his eyes locked on Darcy's. “You want a piece of this?”

One of the hands lifted from her hips, and then she felt Jack gripping her ponytail. He pulled until she moved her head to the side, then bent down and closed his mouth over the side of her neck, dragging his teeth over her flesh. “Mmm,” vibrated out along her skin, and she shivered again, feeling the goosebumps rising on the back of her neck as her eyes drifted shut.

The cups of her bra were pulled down, exposing her breasts. Almost immediately, she felt one of her nipples engulfed in the wet heat of Brock's mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak, teasing it into a tight bud. She grabbed at him, but he quickly caught her wrists and held them together in one hand, securing them behind her. That made her arch her back a little, pushing her breast into his mouth.

Jack was drawing steadily on her neck, bringing a bruise to the surface of her skin. She didn't care, though, nor did she particularly mind when he released her and shifted down just a little to leave another mark.

Brock abruptly released her nipple, rubbing his face between her breasts. The prickle of his stubble rasped sharply against her delicate skin, making her gasp before he moved over to take the other nipple in his mouth. Fingers replaced his mouth at the first nipple, rolling, pinching- she was rapidly losing track of whose. Two mouths, two pairs of hands... She'd be lying if she said she hadn't ever fantasized about this very thing- even with these two very people. She'd seen them both in various states of undress- Jack's muscles had muscles, and Brock was lean and sharply defined- but she'd always thought of it as a practical impossibility. Apparently, though...

Hot desire was pooling between Darcy's legs, and when Brock bit down just to the first sting of pain, she tried to move against him. There was nowhere to go, though, she was trapped between the two men, and she let out a low, breathy moan. “I want to touch...”

She felt her hands shifted up and back a little until she encountered the smooth cotton-blend of Jack's pants, and the unmistakable heavy bulge contained within. She closed her fingers around him as best she could, given his pants and the awkward angle, and Jack came up from her neck. “Let her go.” One of her hands was released, just one, the other held tightly to the back of her thigh. Jack let go of her ponytail, which was both a disappointment and a relief as the pressure along her scalp eased, and released her nipple. She felt his fingers brush over hers just a second before the fabric of his pants was gone.

His cock fell into her waiting hand and she closed her fingers around it, gently stroking the seam along the bottom.

Jack reached around to slip his hand down the front of Darcy's sweats, sliding easily under the elastic waist of her panties. He found her clit, pinching it in time with the movements of her fingers against his cock.

Brock bit down again and Darcy moaned, pushing her hips against Jack's touch. Then his mouth was gone, and she opened her eyes to see him lifting his head away from her dark, swollen nipple. “You want her just like this?” he asked, brown eyes locked on Darcy's, but apparently addressing the man behind her.

“Yeah.” Even that one word was slightly strained.

Brock reached out, closing a finger and thumb over the swollen pink bud he'd just had in his mouth, pinching until the pleasure carried just the edge of pain. It wasn't unpleasant, the sensation more just _intense_ than anything else, and she arched into him as much as she could.

Jack's free hand closed around the waistband at the back of her sweats, grabbing and pulling them down until they slid off her hips to pool around her feet. The dark eyes of the man in front of her immediately dropped to where Jack's hand was between her legs, a heated smile that made her shiver coming over his face.

“Are you wet, little girl?” He twisted her nipple a little, drawing a breathless cry from her, finally dropping her other wrist to bring his hand around between them. He brushed over where her clit was caught between Jack's fingers, then slid back until his finger was right at the entrance to her pussy. She _was_ wet, she could feel him slipping through the slickness of her arousal. He dipped his finger just inside, then pulled away, bringing his hand to his mouth. The sight of him slowly dragging his tongue over his fingertip made everything _clench_ , and when he gave her nipple another slight twist, her eyes fell shut as she reached for him. _Close_ , she was so close, her body felt tight and feverish.

She gripped at his arm, her fingernails catching in the fabric of his shirt. She was there, almost there, and then Jack's hand fell away from her clit and she couldn't keep in her wail of disappointment. “What-”

“Trust me,” Jack said, pulling back from her grasp. “We're gonna make you fly. Bend over, Darcy, Brock needs his dick sucked.”

Darcy's eyes opened as the man in front of her let go of her abused nipple, moving to undo his black pants and slide them off. His cock was fully erect, long and curved just slightly upwards. She bent over, opening her mouth to take him inside. She kept her lips over her teeth, closing her mouth around him and sliding forward until he nudged the back of her throat. She heard his sharp intake of air as he gripped the sides of her head, and she pulled away just a bit, setting a quick rhythm as she moved back and forth.

She felt a finger at her soaked core, this time sliding deep up inside her and followed gently by a second one. Her impending orgasm had backed off a bit but she still _needed_ , and she moaned around Brock's flesh, making him buck into her mouth a little. The fingers pumped in and out a couple of times before fully withdrawing, trailing back until he got to her puckered hole. He circled a couple of times. It was a tease, and she was desperate enough for _something_ that she was arching her back, pushing against him. The slow glide of his finger in her ass was almost a relief, and she moaned again, making Brock thrust against her face.

It wasn't long before she felt the slight sting of the second finger pushing inside, slowly enough to let her body adjust to the intrusion.

One hand was at the base of Brock's cock to hold him steady for her, and she started moving the second one down her body- she was sure it would only take a couple quick flicks over her clit to come. Brock caught her hand, though, pulling it up behind her back. “Not until we're both inside you,” he gritted, and she moaned her frustration against his skin.

Jack started to scissor his fingers, stretching her with a slow burn. It was then that she actually realized what was going on, what their end goal was. She pulled back a little, letting Brock slide out of her mouth. “I don't... I've never...”

“Relax, Darcy,” came the steady voice from behind her.

“Don't worry,” Brock said, tilting her face to look up at him. “It'll hurt so good.” His thumb brushed over her cheekbone for a second, then he pulled off his shirt as he went and stretched out on his back on the narrow bed. Darcy watched him close his hand around his cock, pumping it a couple of times before releasing it to beckon with one finger. “Come here.”

She felt the fingers leave her ass, and she straightened on what were suddenly very wobbly legs, climbing on the bed and swinging one knee over his lean hips to straddle him. He handed her a small square of foil, and she tore it open, quickly unrolling the condom down over his cock. Her hand closed over the base and hovered over him, running the head of his cock teasingly along her slit. He gripped her hips to stop her, the noise coming out of him was almost a snarl. “Fuck me, little girl.”

Darcy lowered herself onto him, letting out a long sigh as she felt him filling her. She stilled for a moment when she was sitting on his hips, her hands braced against his abs. When she rolled her hips, he caught her shoulders and pulled her down onto his chest. “If we're doing this, you'd better hurry, or I'm just going to flip her over and pound the fuck out of her.”

Those words weren't intended for her, and she felt the bed behind her shift, and then the thick head of Jack's cock at the tight ring of her ass. He started pushing in, the stretch riding the edge of pain. “Jack,” Darcy moaned, screwing her eyes shut.

“Relax,” he soothed, one hand stroking over the soft curve of her ass. He pushed in slowly, and it was _so much_ she was sure she was going to split in half. But then she was nestled back against him, and his hand under her stomach was pulling her upright, back against his chest.

 _Full_. Impossibly full. And then hands... One on her nipple, one pinching her clit, and it wasn't enough anymore.

“Move,” she whispered. They started fucking themselves into her, slowly at first, and then not. She rolled her hips a couple of times, but she couldn't quite pick up the right rhythm, so she let Jack hold her up against him with an arm like a band of steel under her breasts. A hand caught her wrists and held them together in front of her; she was pinched and pushed and pulled and tugged, and it felt more intense than anything she'd ever felt before.

She was riding them both, chasing the edge of her high. She'd get there, just about get there, and the devious fingers on her clit would stop, again and again until she was pleading, babbling, her voice broken and incoherent.

The next time she felt her pleasure building, one finger tapped against her clit, just tapped it, and she felt the world shatter. Someone was screaming- her, she realized, lost in a mess of her hair. Her ponytail had come out at some point, and now her dark hair was sticking to the tear tracks on her cheeks.

And still they weren't done.

They drove her on and on with their hands and their bodies until she was limp between them, voice hoarse, and at last she felt the spasm of their own orgasms, first Jack, then Brock.

The only thing holding her up was Jack's arm around her, and he eased her forward until she was resting against Brock, slipping out of her ass. There wasn't really enough room on the bed for her to lie beside him, so she stayed there, catching her breath, feeling herself return to her skin.

“I think we commemorated,” she murmured, her lips catching against Brock's salty skin. “You falling asleep yet?”

“Just resting up for round two. Why, you done, little girl?”

She raised her head to look at him, propping herself up with her forearm across his chest. “No way. Little bit of food and some Gatorade, and I could go all night.” There might have been a bit of bluster in that, she was achy, shaky, a little bit dehydrated.

Movement caught her eye. Jack came out of the tiny bathroom and reached into the chest-of-drawers, pulling out some granola bars and a few bottles of neon sports drink.

Darcy eased herself up, sitting back against the wall by the foot of the bed, and caught the granola bar Jack tossed her. “You really have sex snacks in here?” she asked, focusing on where Brock was sitting up, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

“High metabolism, but it'll work for this too.” He smirked at her. “If they don't have to carry you off that transport tomorrow, we didn't do it right.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I was prompted on [Tumblr](http://pinkpandorafrog.tumblr.com/) for Darcy/Rumlow/Rollins, and this isn't quite what I had in mind, but it's what happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up? Kinda. Sex pollen, but there's explicit consent. For the [Tumblr](http://pinkpandoracornwrites.tumblr.com/) prompt of Darcy/Rumlow.

Darcy was sitting in the middle of the lab, shivering under a blanket like she'd never stop. She felt hot and cold at the same time, her muscles tensed and shooting sharp pains up and down her body. Jemma was hovering at her elbow helplessly, looking about a minute and a half away from crying.

Coulson stood on the other side of the glass door, as pleasantly-neutral as always. Worry and sympathy were chasing through his eyes, though, impossible to miss. “Is there anyone we can call for you?” The implication was there, the hidden, _please, or it's going to have to be someone here_.

Darcy nodded, frantic and jerky. “My old team- Brock Rumlow... Jack-” she winced, hands going to her belly as something there cramped viciously. “Rollins. They're STRIKE. Either, both, just...” At her words, May took off for the stairs that would lead up to the lounge.

Jemma grabbed the blanket as it slid off of Darcy's shoulders, wrapping it securely around her again. “I can give you something to help relax you until... Until we have help for you, but you may not be coherent enough for consent.”

It couldn't be Fitz. Darcy's eyes flicked over the people assembled outside the glass watching her in worry and agitation. He was like her brother. Ward was... Darcy's gazed skittered over Skye. No, it couldn't be Ward.

Her eyes locked on Coulson. He stared back at her for a moment, then nodded a touch reluctantly. “Or May,” she told him, and he nodded again. Either of them would be able to get the job done without things getting too weird after.

“Go ahead, Simmons,” came his tired-sounding order.

Jemma picked up the needle that was waiting on the lab bench beside them. “I'll put it in your thigh. It'll take a few seconds, but then everything should stop hurting, at least for a while.” The sharp jab as the needle went right through Darcy's jeans and deep into her tensed muscle. _Agony_. She made a noise and Jemma started immediately babbling apologies.

May's voice came over the intercom. “Rumlow's on his way, he's about an hour out.”

The pain abruptly faded, replaced by a much more specific ache. Her limbs felt loose, her skin swollen, and she pushed the blanket off her shoulders.

Darcy was aware that they were talking, questions about locations. “Don't need a bed,” she mumbled, not really caring if her voice carried out to them. “Wall's good. Desk. Chair. Wait, no, that was...” Her brain felt deliciously thick. “Jack.” She could vividly remember the feeling of his thick cock buried deep in her ass as Brock sucked on her clit, could almost see the intensity in Brock's dark gaze behind her closed eyelids.

Her hand slipped between her legs, pressing the seam of her jeans into her hot flesh, desperate to ease some of the ache there.

She felt hands pulling her up, someone at her side propping her up with an arm around her waist, her arm dropping across a pair of shoulders. Smooth, the texture under her hand was smooth fabric, and she forced her eyes open and looked over to see it was Coulson moving her towards the elevator. “Please,” she whimpered. He had a tight grip on the hand that wasn't petting his suit jacket, and was staring straight ahead. “Please, I need...”

“I know.” The sympathy in his voice made her want to scream. “Soon, Darcy, Rumlow will be here soon.”

They were moving again, but Darcy couldn't take her eyes off of the way Coulson's pulse was hammering in his throat. She wanted to lean up and lick it, to taste it in her mouth. “Please,” she whispered.

She was sitting somehow, then lying on her back. Coulson was no longer at her side, and she could move her hands again. She fumbled for a second at the button, but her fingers were thick and unresponsive, so she pushed them between her legs again, grinding up against her hand.

“She's going to hurt herself,” she heard Coulson say. “We need to get her clothes off.”

“Please,” Darcy moaned.

“Consent, Phil,” May returned sharply, although she could register the concern in the other woman's voice.

“Given for both of us, in case we couldn't reach Rollins or Rumlow.”

“Really?” There was a genuine note of surprise in May's voice. But then Darcy was being propped up, her clothes efficiently stripped off.

She was alone again, feverishly trying to get enough friction to ease the desperate need that started between her legs and radiated out through her body.

It seemed like forever, time stretching on in a sea of arousal that just wouldn't stop. Finally, though, a strong hand closed around her wrist, pushing her ineffective hand out of the way. She moaned in protest until she felt the broad sweep of a tongue over her aching clit, followed by a pair of fingers pushing into her slick pussy. Whoever it was took her apart with practiced efficiency. Lips closed around the sensitive bead of flesh to provide constant suction as a tongue flicked back and forth. The sharp stubble scraping along her inner thighs felt amazing. The fingers buried inside her crooked up and nudged back and forth over that one perfect spot...

Darcy screamed, feeling the rhythmic flutter as she clamped down on those fingers. When she subsided, opening her eyes, she saw Brock's familiar smirk looking up at her from between her legs. “Heard you needed a hand, little girl.”

The frantic desperation was momentarily eased, but her body was still tight with need and she knew it would be back. “Something like that,” she whispered, voice sore and used up.

“Here.” With his free hand, he offered her a bottle filled with a bright blue liquid. She couldn't quite sit up when he was still shallowly pumping his fingers in and out of her-

The realization made her moan and flop back on the bed. “I'm stopping if you don't get something to drink,” he warned, and she made herself open the bottle, propping herself up on an elbow to drink. He didn't seem to mind the way everything shifted around as she moved, just kept doing what he was doing. “Jack's real sorry he couldn't make it too. He misses your ass.” She moaned at that, head falling back, eyes closing. “I'm just glad I was close enough to help out. Take another drink and put the cap on.”

She pulled her head back up and took another long swallow before maneuvering the cap back on and dropping the bottle on the sheet beside her.

“He could have, but they didn't want to lose two STRIKE members. I pulled rank. Because this...” Brock picked up speed with his hand, fucking her with his fingers until she was pushing her hips up to meet him. “This is the prettiest cunt I've ever seen.”

She moaned at his low, raspy words, she could feel the desperate ache growing heavy again. “Please, Brock.”

“I fucking love hearing you beg.” He worked his fingers a little faster, but it wasn't enough. Her limbs were working again, so she moved her own hand towards the juncture between her legs, but he caught her wrist and held it out of the way. “Beg for it, little girl.”

“Please!” Her voice came out a breathless whine. “Please, Brock, please. I need to come, Brock, please...” She babbled on, lifting her hips off the bed to fuck herself on his fingers. At last she felt his thumb flick back and forth over her clit and she was screaming again, her orgasm rolling over her like a tidal wave.

This time he pulled his hand away, and the sight of him licking her pleasure off his fingers made her moan again.

Brock smirked, sitting down on the bed and slipping an arm behind her to help her sit up. He found the sports drink for her again and she opened it and had another drink, slumping forward against his shoulder.

“The more I build you up first, the faster this gets out of your system,” he told her.

“And you're a tease.” It was impossible to be even remotely angry at him.

He shrugged. “You like it.

She shrugged too, she did like it. “So how are things with Captain America?” She would hopefully have a little bit longer before the desperation overtook her again.

“He's a good soldier. His legs are nothing like yours.” Amusement glittered in his dark eyes. “Surprised you didn't ask for him.”

Darcy took another drink. “I need someone to hold me down and fuck me right now, and I'm not sure that's what he's into. You, however...” She let her eyes move over him, taking in his black tactical outfit for the first time. “You're still dressed.”

“Pacing myself. There's only one of me this time, and they won't let me stay here forever.”

She looked up at him, a grin spreading across her face. “I hear it can be hard to perform as you get older.”

Brock looked at her for a long, still moment, then took the bottle gently from her hand before capping it. And then he surged forward, pushing her back and settling himself on top of her, partially-braced on his forearms on either side of her so that he wasn't resting his full weight on her. His thigh pushed between her legs, making her aware that the feverish heat was rising again. “Remind me again who lasted longer.”

“That wasn't fair, you guys got me all strung out. It was two against one.” She watched the smirk spread across his face.

Her breasts felt squashed under his rigid body armor, and Darcy shifted a little. “You're heavy,” she complained a touch breathlessly.

“You'll like it in a few seconds.” His eyes held hers, dark, intense.

She realized she was rocking against the rock-hard muscle of his thigh. “Brock...” She was acutely aware of the erection pushing into her hip. “Please, Brock, I need you to fuck me.”

“Not yet, little girl. Right now...” His eyes searched hers. “Right now you're going to ride me.”

“But...” Her mind was grasping at coherent thoughts even as she writhed against his leg. “I'll ruin your pants.”

“Take a lot more than that to ruin my pants. This way I go back smelling like you.”

She knew she should care, be embarrassed, something. But the only thing she could do was clutch at the stiff shoulders of his body armor, grinding herself against him. “It's not enough,” she half-sobbed.

“It will be. I can feel you- so fucking wet.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she moved against him, head falling back. She felt him against her neck- the prickle of his stubble, the softness of his lips. He wasn't trying to leave marks like Jack had- or maybe he was, just a different kind of mark. The scrape of his facial hair surrounded the delicious heat of his mouth as he roamed over her neck and across her her throat.

“Brock, I need-”

“You _need_ to stop talking, or I'll put something in your mouth to keep you quiet.” His words ended practically on a growl against her throat, and she moaned in response.

It was a slow build as she drove herself into his leg, riding him like he'd told her to. She felt like she'd been chasing the edge of her orgasm for hours when he suddenly rolled to the side and reached down to pinch her clit. She screamed again, clutching at his arm as she finally _broke_.

When her head cleared, Darcy realized that her fingernails had left long scratches along his arm. “Well,” she said, a bit breathlessly. “Sorry.”

He looked down at his arm. “Another souvenir to go back with? You're too good to me.” He grabbed the sports drink and passed it to her, closing his other hand around her arm and pulling her into a sitting position. “Have a drink. How did you get compromised, anyway?”

She took a long drink. “We were following up on some rumors about some other Asgardian artifact, and there was this wire...”

He stared at her, face a mask of disapproval. “And your specialist had cleared you to be in that particular area?”

“Not... exactly?” She studied where his hand was resting on her thigh. He had wide hands, strong, deadly. His fingers curled over her inner thigh, fingertips stroking back and forth a little.

“Ward's too soft, you need a specialist who's not afraid to manhandle you. If I wasn't specifically needed where I am right now, I'd put in for a transfer.” It was true, she probably wouldn't have tripped that wire if Brock was there. If she'd even tried going somewhere that he hadn't cleared, he'd hoist her over his shoulder until he was done.

She looked up to meet his eyes. “Ward's sweet. Not everyone's a neanderthal like you.”

He snickered. “Neanderthal? If we weren't running short of time, I'd put you over my knee and spank you.”

Even in her current lull, Brock's words made her moan quietly. He heard her, and that smirk spread over his face again. “Your next leave, come out to the Triskelion. Be good to have a couple extra hands to hold you down.” He contemplated her for a second. “I might be able to put in a request, we've got some new equipment we need to test. Magnetic handcuffs. Probably get both of your hands in one, maybe stick it to one of the weight machines in the gym. Me in front of you, Jack behind you... You'd be helpless.”

She was moaning again, shifting herself towards Brock's fingers. At once he was on his feet, quickly shedding his clothes. All Darcy could do was watch as his lean, hard body was revealed piece by piece. “Got just enough time to fuck you, then I've got to go back. You should be able to finish this out yourself. You give anyone here consent?”

Darcy nodded. “May and Coulson.”

“You need help at all, cramp or whatever, you go see one of them.” Nude, he approached the bed again. He took the bottle and capped it, setting it on the floor before climbing onto the bed on his knees between her legs. “Give me your hands, little girl.”

She held up her hands in front of her, and he caught her wrists between one thumb and forefinger, leaning forward until he was pushing them into the bed over her head, resting heavily against them. Brock was positioning himself between her legs, then he slid deep inside her, sliding in until his skin smacked against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut as he bottomed out.

Darcy pushed her heels against the bed for leverage, lifting her hips to meet him as he drove into her fast and hard. She could feel herself getting hot and achy again, every thrust of his cock pushing her need higher and higher until she was moaning continuously, an endless plea of need.

He shifted, putting his weight on the arm holding her wrists again, and his hand slid between them until his thumb was flicking over her clit.

She came hard, straining towards him with her entire body. It wasn't long before she felt the telltale pulse of his own orgasm, more intense than she'd felt it before.

Her shoulders were sore when he sat back, and she lowered her arms slowly to her sides as she looked up at him. “No condom?” she asked when she had enough breath to speak.

“Your doc told me you have an IUD.” And SHIELD did full blood work-ups regularly, especially for agents who went into the field. “Feels better, for both of us.”

He used the sheet that had twisted and half come off the bed to clean himself up as best he could, then started pulling his tactical outfit back on. “Your clothes are on the desk. Walk me out? Your doc probably wants a look at you anyway.”

Someone had folded Darcy's clothes into a neat pile, and she leaned heavily against the desk to bolster her shaky legs as she got dressed.

When Brock finished zipping up his body armor, he went over to the door and opened it, holding it open with one arm. She went over to slip past him, and as soon as they were out of the room, he fell in step beside her.

Everyone was waiting in the lounge except Jemma. Coulson got to his feet when Darcy and Brock came around the corner. “Thank you, Agent Rumlow, for your assistance in this matter.” He noticeably didn't offer the other agent his hand, and Darcy couldn't exactly blame him.

Brock was wearing a slight smirk. “My pleasure.” It was impossible to miss the glare he aimed at Ward as they passed and went around to where the ladder would lead him up to where, assumedly, his quinjet was waiting on top of the Bus.

He stopped, turning towards Darcy. His hands came out to her hips, and he turned her and pressed her back against the wall. “You be good, little girl. I'm sure I'll see you soon.” And then he bent over and kissed her, very thoroughly.

It only occurred to her when she was down in the lab with Jemma that it had been the first time he'd ever kissed her.

\---

Darcy walked across the lounge- and really, the steadiness of her steps had more to do with ibuprofen than anything else- and flopped down on the couch. She had definitely felt better, she felt a bit like she'd been hit by a truck. And that wasn't even counting the beard rash between her legs and all over her neck and shoulders. “Did Jemma monitor us?” she asked Skye, who was sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs with her laptop.

Skye looked up at her, sympathy in her warm brown eyes. “She did.”

“That explains the excess cheer and refusal to meet my eyes.” Darcy made a face at the bottled sports drink in her hand. “I know she's not judging, but... My one and only other sexual experience with Brock was a night-long threesome. It came up a few times, and I think she's trying to figure out how to process it.”

“So...” Skye said, offering her a bag of Skittles. “Both, huh?”

Darcy took the candy, pouring a few of the brightly-colored sweets out into her hand as she nodded. “Yeah.”

“At the same-”

“Yeah.”

“And it was...”

Darcy handed the red bag back, popping a couple of the candies in her mouth. “ _So_ hot.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy eyed the panel beside the elevator door with some interest. Displayed was her name and her SHIELD ID picture. And... “Huh. They settled on Level Seven.”

Jack shifted towards her, pulling her attention up and over to his face. His eyebrows were raised. “You didn't know your clearance level?”

“My clearance level was, 'one of my BFFs is Thor, who loves to talk interplanetary politics with me, and I know a lot more than SHIELD really wants me to.'” That was basically what Hand had said, maybe paraphrased a little.

“You're Thor's Darcy?” The question pulled her attention to the back of the elevator where a tall, broad-shouldered blond in sweats and a t-shirt was staring out of the plate-glass wall. He turned around- _oh_. So that was _aw, shucks, call me Steve_. The cameras did not do his shoulders justice. His eyes moved over her, but not in the same eye-fucking way that Jack had when she'd stepped off the quinjet. “Thought you'd be bigger.”

“To be fair, he was basically human when I tazed him,” Darcy replied with an apologetic shrug.

“Which still left him plenty formidable, or so I've heard.” He offered her his hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Darcy Lewis.” He had a carefully firm handshake.

“Rollins,” Steve greeted the other man.

“Cap.” Jack had a very amused look on his face. “What was that you said, Darcy?” He glanced between her and Steve.

She looked up at him for a moment, then let out a big sigh. She knew exactly what he was talking about- _lady on the streets, freak between the sheets_. “Please tell me you know the answer from personal experience.”

“No, but you could ask.”

She rolled her eyes, reaching out to give his shoulder a shove. It didn't really do much- he wasn't as broad as Steve back there, but he wasn't that far off. “You are such an asshole, Jack. Hey.” She pointed to the display panel. “I can't help but notice we just passed the floor with guest quarters.”

“You specifically asked for him when you were hormonally compromised, so regs say Brock could put in for conjugal status for you. It can be assumed that if you asked for a specific person instead of making do with who was there, you're involved with said person.”

“I'm not. Well, I mean...” She shook her head. “Not really.” _Friends with benefits_? That sounded a little more accurate.

“No, but you have to admit that it'll make a lot of things very convenient.”

She shrugged, there was no arguing with that. And it wasn't like they hadn't slept in close-quarters before, thanks to shitty hotels in the middle of nowhere. “What about you?” She'd also asked for Jack specifically.

“His bunk is bigger. And I know how much of the bed you take up when you sleep.” She felt him looking at her. “Don't worry, I know where he sleeps.”

The elevator stopped, and Jack gestured towards the long gray hall revealed by the open door. “This is us.”

Darcy stepped off the elevator beside Jack. To her surprise, Steve got off the elevator, too. He kept himself behind them - not creepy close, but back there - as they set out down the hall.

“Did Brock tell you that you'll be testing some field equipment for us?” She glanced over to see there was an intense look in Jack’s gray eyes, one Darcy knew very well.

She caught her lip between her teeth and took a couple seconds before answering, turning her eyes away from him to watch her feet cross the gray carpet on the floor. Turning into a puddle of mush in front of Captain America wasn't exactly the way she wanted to play this. “The possibility was discussed.” Voice carefully neutral.

“He was going to take it with him when he went out to see you, but he was worried there wouldn't be a suitable surface to test it against.”

“And you have a suitable surface?”

“We've worked something out.” The low promise in his voice made her belly twist.

They kept walking to the end of the hall, and then around the corner to follow that around to a pair of double doors at the end.

Darcy stopped and turned towards Jack, her eyebrows going up. Steve took the opportunity to step around them, heading into-

A gym. A state-of-the-art gym-slash-training facility. There were all kinds of exercise machines, a couple of boxing rings in the center... A lot of the equipment was in use, and no question that these were all highly-trained field agents.

Darcy put her hands on her hips, staring up at Jack, her backpack swinging against her shoulder. “I'm sleeping in the gym? There are probably enough mats or whatever, but I think I'm going to need a blanket. Probably a pillow.”

“Brock wanted me to bring you by when you got here, so he'd know what was waiting for him in his bunk for when he finished.” He gestured over to one of the boxing rings, where Brock was trading jabs with another man with a similar build.

“You do know I'm here on business, right? That this...” she gestured between them, “...is just a fringe benefit?” Coulson had sent her to track down Director Fury, who wasn't answering his phone. Why he expected her to succeed where he had failed, she wasn't sure... Coulson had said something about connections and not being able to turn down a face-to-face, but Darcy was pretty sure that all she was going to get out of this trip was some time on solid ground.

And probably some sex.

Probably a whole lot of sex.

Jack motioned with his head, and Darcy moved towards the door that had closed behind Steve, pushing it open and stepping inside the gym. She was immediately aware of the almost predatory gaze that settled on her as she made her way through the equipment to where Brock had stopped beating up his partner's hands and was just standing, watching her. “I hear you put in for conjugal status?” she asked when she was right next to him, close enough for her voice to carry over the ambient noise without yelling.

He caught her wrist, twisting it up behind her back to pull her against his chest. It didn't hurt, not quite, but it definitely wasn't comfortable. He was dripping with sweat and testosterone, the heat from his chest burning through her white blouse. “We are going to _ruin_ you, little girl. Wouldn't look right to have to carry you back to guest quarters.” He seared her with his gaze for a moment before bending down to claim her mouth with a deep kiss.

Her body reacted, both to his low promise and the way his tongue was moving against hers, and when he eased up the pressure on her arm and let her pull away, she was breathing a little more heavily than normal.

Darcy stepped back a little. Conjugal status or not, making out in a gym full of fellow agents didn't really seem like the thing to do. She looked down at her blouse, stained slightly from his sweat, and back up at his face, eyebrows raised. “You're getting me a new shirt, Brock.”

“Sounds fair. Not done with that one yet.” His eyes glittered, and Darcy felt that twisting sensation again. She'd made a bet with Skye that her pants would stay on for at least half an hour, figuring that would be safe, considering she needed to land and stuff, and Jack and Brock both had things to do. At the rate things were going, though...

“Yeah, I'm gonna go and put my stuff in your bunk, apparently.” She noticed Steve's eyes tracking her as she went back out to join Jack in the hall. Well, Brock had been manhandling her a little, and quite a few people would not have been okay with it. Cap seemed like the type who’d get concerned. Sweet of him. But quite unnecessary.

Jack was holding the door for her, and she passed by him, moving again into the gray hallway. She waited until he started moving and fell in step beside him - he knew where they were going and she didn't. “You guys are feeding me, right? Or am I going to have to find my way to the caf from here?”

“We'll take care of you.” Innuendo. Right.

She rolled her eyes. “So how's STRIKE? More exciting than following me through the jungle, at least?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “More action, less staring at your ass all day.”

Darcy looked up at him, eyebrows raised, unable to stop the incredulous grin that spread across her face. “Is that why Brock always took point?”

“Fringe benefit.” He gestured with his head towards the closest door on their right. “This one.”

She walked over to it, standing to the side while he punched a passcode into the pad beside the door. There was a buzz, a click, and then he opened the door, holding it open for her.

Darcy passed by him, looking all around her as she moved into the room. “This is fucking _huge_ compared to the Hub.” Or her bunk on the Bus, which was even smaller than the regulation bunks at the Hub. “Two rooms, this is fancy as hell. You guys are spoiled down here.” The first room was a kitchen and living room, there was a doorway that led into a bedroom - Darcy could see the end of the bed - and probably a bathroom beyond that. “I'm pretty sure that bed in there is larger than my entire bunk.”

Jack joined her, letting the heavy door swing shut behind him. He very gently took the backpack from her shoulder, placing it carefully on the floor. She turned to look up at him, and the dark look in his eyes made her take a step back. Just one, though, she held her ground when he kept coming.

His arms went behind her, one hand catching in her hair and pulling to tilt her head back, the other locking around her waist. He stooped to kiss her, mouth slanting over her own. Swirling tongue, the catch of teeth - she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck, melting against him.

His hands dropped until he was cupping her ass, fingers digging in, kneading a little. And then he was lifting her up, pulling her against him. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he started walking.

Darcy abruptly felt herself dumped on her back on what turned out to be the bed. She barely had time to get her bearings before Jack was undoing her slacks and pulling them off, only stopping to tug off her shoes. His hands moved to the waist of his own black pants, and he pushed down them down just enough for his cock to spring free. He was immediately on the bed between her legs, pushing her panties aside and easing himself forward until his erection was sliding deep inside her. Anticipation and an inability to stop fantasizing on the way to the Triskelion had kept her more than ready for a little while.

He started to move almost immediately, fucking her into the bed like he was trying to break it. His arms were on either side of her head, his chest pressing down into her breasts. Her legs locked around his hips again, feet crossing behind him, head thrown back against the blanket. She rolled her hips into him, slipping her hand down between their bodies and under her lacy underwear to get some friction against her needy clit.

Darcy didn't notice that the door had opened until she heard a voice. “Suit up, Jack. Rescue op.” Her eyes flew open and she tried peering around Jack's bulk.

Jack didn't slow down, not even when Brock came strolling in the room, shirt already off, smirk on his face. “Just couldn't wait, could you?”

“Taking the edge off,” Jack gritted in return.

“Two minutes.”

She was a little distracted, until Jack grabbed the back of her thigh and pushed her leg up over his shoulder. Suddenly he was pushing deeper with every surge forward, and he had all of her attention again. Close, she was getting close, the frantic urgency of needing to finish before he had to go was so hot.

She felt him stutter, his rhythm getting jerky before he lost it completely, burying himself deep inside her as the wet pulse of his release filled her.

And then he was gone, pulling out so abruptly that her pussy was left clenching desperately around nothing. “Fucking... Jack!” She knew he had to go, but another few seconds would have pushed her over, too.

“Sorry,” he offered as he pulled his pants back up over his hips, not sounding the least bit sorry. He didn't do them up, though, instead his hand fell between her legs, two fingers slipping under her panties and setting a quick tempo over her clit. It didn't take long for her own orgasm to send a wave of warmth through her body. She opened her eyes to see two men standing at the foot of the bed and looking down at her, one considerably less tense than the other. And then Jack was gone, doing up his pants as he walked out of the bedroom, followed by the opening and closing of the door.

Brock offered her a hand, pulling her to her feet. He was already in his tactical gear, all suited up and ready to go. He looked down at her for a moment, eyes dark with hunger. “Be here when I get back, little girl.” His eyes moved over her, and then he was gone, too.

Darcy sighed and headed towards the door that probably led into the bathroom. It looked like she had some time to kill. And she owed Skye $20.

\---

Director Fury was unavailable that afternoon, but Darcy was welcome to leave a message.

The cafeteria wasn't too hard to find. Apparently her biometrics had been associated with Brock's for the length of her stay, so she was automatically allowed in all the common areas he had access to.

Sleeping in strange places was something Darcy had sort of become accustomed to, so falling asleep in a much larger bed than she was used to wasn't such a big deal.

Waking up the way she did, however, was a different story. Her leg was drawn up and back, hooked over-

Someone else's legs. A wide hand was settled between her thighs, rough fingers thrumming over the sensitive bundle of nerves there. It was completely dark, without even the glow of a digital clock, and everything just kinda felt floaty and nice.

“Just get wet for me,” Brock's low voice rasped in her ear, strained with impatience.

Darcy let out a soft sigh, her hand going behind her to drag through Brock's thick hair. Damp, his hair was damp, like he'd just had a shower.

She made a quiet noise of protest when his touch left her, but almost immediately she could feel him guiding his cock into the slickness he'd made in her center. He pushed steadily inside, making her let out another breathy sigh.

His fingers were at her clit again as he drove into her like he was desperately trying to find something... solace, maybe. That floaty feeling solidified into pure want, a heat that fed on her lover's urgent attentions.

Brock pushed her higher and higher until she was making breathy moaning sounds, her fingernails dragging along his scalp. He was almost silent behind her, his increasingly rapid breaths the only sounds he made.

She found her release first, his touch bringing a gently rolling wave of pleasure over her. He kept going, arm moving up to lock around her waist as he fucked her relentlessly. She turned her head towards him and felt his lips move over her ear, his stubble catching in her hair.

At last Darcy felt him stiffen and still behind her, the telltale rhythmic twitch as he spent himself deep within her pussy. It took another moment before he shifted back to slip his softening cock out of her, and she let her leg fall down to rest on the bed. She moved, meaning to get up and clean up, but his arm was a steel band around her.

“Stay,” was all he said, and she settled back against him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the SUPER-fantastic ozhawk- thanks!  
> This sort of became a thing. A plot-thing. Well, not so much YET of course, but there's some on the way. Soon. Timeline-wise, we're riiiiiiiight at the beginning of CA:tWS.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little bit intense, as a warning. Handcuffs and spankings, oh my! And, like, a paragraph and a half of plot right at the end. ;) Super thank you to super-awesome beta ozhawk!

Darcy was up before Brock was, which was new and different. Usually he was awake first. Then again, he'd come in at whatever time last night. It was... nice, though. Comfortable. She was familiar with the steady pattern of his breathing, but she hadn't felt it quite so _close_ before. She was still tucked up against him, his arm securely around her waist, and she knew that her moving would rouse him.

But she felt sticky and gross and needed to pee. She grabbed his hand and lifted it, wiggling out from under it and across the bed.

“Where you goin'?” He sounded sleepy, but she knew that he was already alert enough to face any threats that came. Not that any would, tucked away deep in the Triskelion, but he always woke up freakishly fast.

“ _Someone_ didn't want me to get up to clean up last night and now I feel all gross.” He didn't have an answer for that, and a look back showed that he hadn't even opened his eyes.

He appeared to be sleeping again by the time she came out of the bathroom, and she passed through into the adjoining room to check out what was going on in the kitchen. She'd taken her phone in with her and had been told that 'Director Fury wasn't taking meetings until further notice,' just the same as the day before. She'd left _another_ message for him before hopping in the shower.

She really didn't know what Coulson expected her to accomplish. If she didn't know how very desperate Coulson was to get in touch with Director Fury, she'd suspect that he'd sent her down to the Triskelion just to get laid.

Darcy heard the shower run as she cooked. There were an awful lot of protein foods stocked in the fridge, probably something to do with Brock's fast metabolism. It was very similar to cooking for Thor, only with less food. Well, the same amount, really, because she suspected there would be a third body joining them for the meal, but less food per person.

Jack came through the front door before Brock was finished in the shower. “It smells good in here,” he commented, settling himself down on the couch.

“That's my shampoo,” Darcy replied, turning to flash him a grin over her shoulder. “I wasn't going to cook, but then I realized that I was actually hungry and wanted more than just sex snacks to sustain me through the day.” She rolled her eyes, turning back towards her stove-top full of food. “Sorry, Brock's 'high metabolism' snacks.”

Speaking of... The shower shut off and Darcy looked over to see Brock strolling through the door with just a pair of pants hanging low off his hips. “You routinely walk around the Triskelion like that?” she asked. Not that she didn't appreciate it. The man was all lean muscle.

“Not planning on going anywhere for a while.” His eyes moved over her. “If you're going out to see Fury, do it soon, 'cause you're not going to be able to walk later.” His tone was matter-of-fact, but the dark look in his eyes definitely was not.

Darcy turned back to her food again. “I am not. Unless he manages to get back to me about the messages I left, but I somehow don't think that's gonna happen.” She gave her scrambled eggs a final stir. “By the way, you guys are cleaning up. That's how this works.” After turning off all the elements, she stepped away from the stove.

“Okay,” Jack replied easily. “You'll need some time to let your food settle anyway.”

They took care of it, alright. After eating in the living room- there wasn't enough room for a table and chairs anywhere- Jack and Brock cleared up all of the breakfast things. All Darcy had to do was sit back on the couch, one foot crossed over the other, and text Skye that she was bringing her $20 worth of Skittles.

Eventually, though, Jack came around to where Darcy was sitting and gently took the phone from her hands, setting it on the couch cushion beside her. He took her hand, pulling her to her feet, and led her into the bedroom.

Brock was already there, holding what looked a lot like the handle for a microwave or something. Her eyebrows went up as she looked at it. “What's that?”

“Magnetic cuff. Need to field test it before we actually use it.” He opened it and set it on the end of the bed.

Darcy stared at it for a second. It _looked_ like it would hold both of her hands. “Is it adjustable?” Because not everyone had hands as small as hers. She knew what was about to go down, but if they were actually testing it then she needed to take it at least somewhat seriously.

“Doesn't need to be.”

Before she could ponder the meaning of that answer, however, the grip on her wrist shifted, pulling her against Jack's broad body. She turned to see that intense look in his gray eyes, but only had enough time for a glimpse before his mouth came down on hers. This kiss wasn't quite as frantic as yesterday's had been. Her hands slid up his chest to rest on his shoulders; the slightly-stretchy black fabric was smooth under her fingertips.

He was busy at the front of her blouse, quickly undoing each button before pushing the shirt gently down over her shoulders. His hands came to settle at either side of her waist.

She hadn't heard Brock move towards them, but it was his fingers that were brushing over the bare skin of her back, undoing her bra. It was slipped off to join her shirt on the floor, and then he was taking both of her hands off of Jack's shoulders, pressing her wrists together above her head. She felt something close around them, hard, immoveable. It was a snug fit but it wasn't tight enough to cut off circulation, and she felt Brock test it to make sure. He tugged down until she was practically resting her forearms on her head, it was a little more comfortable like that. And then he pulled back slightly, arching her back.

Jack lifted his head, and Darcy opened her eyes to see him staring down at her breasts. He cupped one in each hand as though he was testing their weight. Brock pulled back on her wrists just a little more, pushing her that much further into the man in front of her.

Large thumbs brushed over each sensitive peak. “Do you remember your colors, Darcy?” Jack asked in a low voice. They'd set up the system on their last go around at the Hub, although Darcy had fallen asleep after a very strenuous night instead of tapping out. Still, though, it was reassuring to hear him bring it up, considering that her wrists were currently encased in what felt like pretty unbreakable metal.

She nodded. “Yup. I am all green.”

He didn't say anything further, his attention fully on her breasts. He dropped his head again, past her face this time, until his mouth closed over the upper swell of her breast. He plucked at her nipples as he drew her soft skin up into his mouth, sure to leave a bruise.

She felt Brock step into her, the back of her head brushed against his shoulder. “Just let go, little girl,” he murmured in her ear.

Darcy couldn't go anywhere, not that she wanted to. She let her eyes drift shut, relaxing her arms until Brock was taking their full weight. It was incredibly _easy_ to let herself go, to give herself over to whatever they wanted to do to her. Jack's hands and mouth on her were sending waves of desire straight down between her legs.

Brock's hand slipped around her hip and down over her pelvis until his palm was over her clit, outside her clothes. She shifted a little, spreading her legs apart, and he responded by digging in the heel of his palm a little, grinding it lightly against her.

Jack's mouth had moved to another spot, the pressure against her nipples getting successively harder and harder. When he pinched just to the edge of pain, she let out a low moan, and he lifted his head to admire the collection of marks he'd made over her breasts. He gave one of her sensitive peaks a hard flick, and her gasp made him give her a particularly predatory smile. His hands dropped to her pants, and Brock's touch left her as Jack undid her pants and slid them and her admittedly soaked panties completely off.

“Move her over to the bed,” the man in front of her instructed.

“You think she's ready?” Brock replied, his voice low in Darcy's ear like he was talking to her, just to her.

“Do you want to check?”

Brock's fingers returned between her legs, slipping along her slick center to dip just inside her pussy. He pumped them in and out a couple of times before pulling his hand away. She could actually hear him licking her arousal off his fingers as he paused before answering, and she let out a low moan. “I think so.”

He lessened the pull on her hands until she was standing fully upright again. Jack moved to the side of the room, and with one hand on her hip, the man behind her steered her over to the side of the bed. “Up,” he urged, and Darcy got up on her knees on the bed, slowly moving forward until-

-Well, that was something she hadn't noticed before. There was a strip of metal along the wall at about eye-height. Brock pressed the cuff to it and pushed something, and instantly she felt an unbelievably strong magnetic pull securing her there.

“Can you move?” Jack asked, and she looked over to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her.

Darcy tugged back on her arms. “Not at all. This thing isn't going anywhere.” Her voice was just a touch more breathless than usual, but then a slight tension had settled over the room.

“Good.” Brock was on the bed behind her, smoothing one hand from her lower back over her ass and down onto the back of her thigh. The first sharp crack of his hand meeting her flesh surprised her into a yelp, the sound more jarring than the sensation. She bucked forward, and she felt his hand gently running over her skin again.

“Easy,” Jack soothed, eyes trained on her face. “This is gonna take you so high. Color, Darcy.”

“Green.” She nodded, and the next time Brock's palm impacted with her ass, she didn't jolt forward so much. It didn't exactly hurt, not exactly, but it left a lingering heat across her skin.

“He's warming you up for me,” Jack said, reaching forward until one finger was slipping over her clit, his words punctuated by another smack. “When your ass is nice and red, I'm going to take you down from there and fuck you from behind.” Another smack, slightly harder this time, and Darcy let out a breathy moan. His finger slid back until he was pushing it deep inside her cunt, and Brock's next slap made his fingertip skitter over _that_ spot. “You'll feel so good, your skin hot against me.” A second finger joined the first, his thumb rolling over her clit.

They kept up like that until Darcy was _lost_. Brock's hand never seemed to come down in the same place twice, the intensity increasing until everything blurred together into _sensation_ ; Jack's low voice telling her all the things they were going to do to her as he fucked her with his fingers. He'd bring her close to the edge and then back off, until she was shaking between them, babbling at them to please let her come, so wet she was sure she was dripping. Her head was resting against her forearms as she hung from the cuffs, not sure she was steady enough to keep herself up if she tried.

She was only dimly aware of the bed shifting behind her as Brock moved away. There was a hand at her wrist, and then she was sagging forward, caught quickly against the warmth of someone's body - Brock, she opened her eyes to see it was Brock.

It was Jack, then, who was behind her, shifting her back. Brock climbed onto the bed in front of her, legs stretched out to either side, his erection jutting up impressively from between his thighs.

She felt the wide head of Jack's cock pushing into her dripping opening, felt herself clenching around it as he pushed himself inside. She rocked back into him eagerly, almost burning with need. “Please,” she whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut as an arm locked around her waist to support her.

Someone was pinching her clit, clever fingers were twisting her nipple to a thin edge of pain, and everything lit up with white-hot sensation as her orgasm finally broke. She felt like she was floating, like her body couldn't be contained in her skin, and it rolled on and on until it was feeding the next one.

The second one was almost too much, so intense it almost _hurt_. She felt Jack stiffen behind her, filling her with his come. Strong hands supported her, pulling her back until she was lying on the bed on her back. She opened her eyes to see Brock kneeling between her legs, guiding his hard length inside her. He knelt up, hands gripping her hips to support her as he set up a quick rhythm.

A third hand was sliding down her body, over the soft curve of her stomach and down until Jack was pinching her over-sensitized clit again in time to Brock's strokes. She whimpered, almost a protest. “Just once more, Darcy,” he said, voice low and soothing. “Just once more, you've been so good for us. Give me a color.”

“Green,” came out a breathy sigh, and Jack's head fell to bury in her neck as Brock drove steadily into her. His mouth closed over her skin, and somehow that was what sent her over again, crying out and shuddering as sensation overwhelmed her.

Brock found his release just after she did, and lowered her hips gently to the bed, reaching up to stroke her face. His thumb brushed the tear tracks away from her cheekbone. She felt absolutely drained, her body practically humming.

Jack moved away, and Brock's arms slipped underneath her knees and shoulders, lifting her up and cradling her against his body. He was walking, she realized, moving out to the living room where he sat down on the couch with her across his lap.

Jack followed shortly after, holding a bottled sports drink with a straw, and he held it for her so that she could take a drink. “Easy,” he cautioned, and Darcy paused and swallowed before having some more. He sat down beside them, pulling her legs across his thighs and gently massaging her calves.

She felt absolutely _wrecked_. More than just the lingering burn in the muscles of her ass, she felt a little bit like she'd been wrung out like a washcloth. She was content to lay there across them and sip her sports drink while they talked quietly about some mission or something, their low voices soothing, both of them never ceasing with their gentle, soothing strokes of strong hands over her body.

After a while, Jack got dressed and left, saying he'd be back later. Brock took a shower with Darcy, both squeezing into the tiny shower stall. When they were dry, they snuggled up on the bed, Brock with a tablet and doing some work, Darcy with her phone and playing Candy Crush.

He was just about to get up and get some lunch when his phone rang. He answered it, and when he hung up, his mouth was set in a grim line. “Pierce. We have an op.” He did something else with his phone, probably alerting his team or whatever.

Darcy shifted up on the bed until she was sitting up against the headboard. “Okay.”

He looked like he wanted to say something further, then shook his head. “Stay here. If you're not up to making food, go ahead and go down to the cafeteria, but I want you to stick pretty close around here today.”

Darcy's eyebrows went up. “Yeah, okay.” That was a little... weird. It was SHIELD, so she knew that there were probably a lot of questions that he wouldn't be able to answer. “Is everything, you know...”

He _didn't_ answer, and that almost seemed like an answer itself. He walked around to her side of the bed, and bracing an arm on the headboard behind her, leaned down for a kiss. When he pulled away, his dark eyes were hard on hers. “If something happens to me, you get back to the Bus right away.”

This was getting significantly odder and odder by the second. “Okay,” she said again, the end lifting into a slight question.

He shook his head. “This goes the way I think it will... We'll talk when I get back.” He gave her another kiss, and then he was striding out.

Darcy heard the door open and close, and she stared at the doorway for a few seconds, her brow furrowed in confusion.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So... If you care, take note that the tags have been added to. This is turning from a plot-bunny to an actual plot-thing in my head, and I don't want to be springing someone's notp on them.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy looked a little like she'd been on the losing end of a fight with an octopus. Her neck and chest were covered in Jack's purplish marks, making her glad she'd brought extra cover-up with her. Not that she expected to actually talk to Fury any time soon. Just for fun, though, she called him again, and was told again that he wasn't taking meetings, etc. etc.

Her next call was to Coulson, who answered right away like he'd been waiting for her. Which, of course, he probably was. “Agent Lewis?”

Darcy paced into the living room and had a seat on the couch. She'd been sticking pretty close to Brock's bunk like he'd suggested; he didn't get to be the leader of STRIKE without learning a little about risk assessment. “Hey, Coulson. Fury's 'not taking meetings until further notice.' I've left a couple of messages for him, but nothing's happening. I haven't even seen him. I did get to meet Steve Rogers, though.” Because everyone knew how hard Coulson fanboyed about Captain America.

“I need you to keep trying.” She could hear the frustration in his voice. Coulson usually played with his cards pretty close to his chest, so it was pretty obvious that this was really bothering him.

“I will.” She put her foot up on the cushion in front of her and rested her arm on it. “Hey, are we on a secure line?”

“Yes.” With a faint hint of incredulity that she was even asking.

“Okay. So this is weird- Rumlow seems to think something's going down. Like, something super serious.” Probably a good idea to tell Coulson, especially if there was going to have to be an emergency extraction or whatever.

“Any clues as to what?”

“No. He's on an op right now and he said we'd talk when he got back. Talk with a capital T. So if I call you from some little town in middle-of-nowhere-Virginia, come get me, okay?”

“Is that a possibility?”

She combed a hand through her hair, still damp from her last shower. “Brock specifically said, 'if something happens to me...'”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “That does sound serious.”

“Yeah.” Her eyebrows raised and lowered expressively. “Exactly.”

“It may take a bit. We're headed after the Clairvoyant right now.” Well, fuck. That was good, though, right? The Clairvoyant definitely needed to be brought in. “Do you think you can get to New York?”

Darcy sighed, considering. Coulson knew Jane and Thor were in New York, and if there was super serious shit going down, there was no question that they'd take her in until... Until. “Yeah, I can probably get there. Slight complication, though, right?” As in Coulson's whole big back-from-the-dead-hush-hush thing.

“One thing at a time.”

“Right.” She didn't understand why he hadn't told the Avengers he was back, yet. Seemed pretty stupid, if they were supposed to be Earth's mightiest heroes or whatever. SHIELD sure did love their secrets and classified information. “Good luck with the Clairvoyant.”

“Call me as soon as you know something.”

“Yeah.” Darcy ended the call and sat frowning at her phone for a second. Kinda sucked that she was being left out of the whole Clairvoyant thing, but then again, there probably wasn't much she could do. Her field training wasn't nearly as extensive as Ward's, and pacing on the Bus sounded just about as fun as pacing in Brock's bunk. At least here, there was the potential for sex sooner than rather than not.

Speaking of which, Darcy was still feeling a little sensitive. Not just her body- although that, too- but like her emotions were a little closer to the surface than normal. She hoped Brock and Jack got back soon, 'cause she really just kinda wanted a hug.

Brock was back a little while later, but from the expression on his face, he didn't necessarily want to be. Darcy was sitting on the couch and trying to watch TV, but she turned it off and stood up when he came in and walked over to her.

His eyes moved over her face. “We need to get you out of here.”

“I'm... What?” She stared up at him in confusion, hands coming up to rest on her hips. She'd been all ready to go in for the hug, but he didn't exactly have cuddly body language.

“There's a safehouse you can use. How soon can you be ready to go?” He was serious. Like, super serious. Like, she'd better get a fucking move on, or he was going to sling her over his shoulder and do it for her.

She grabbed her phone from the cushion beside where she'd been sitting and moved quickly through to the bedroom where her backpack was sitting on the floor by the wall. Everything was pretty much inside, living a mobile life had given her a habit of keeping everything pretty much ready to go all the time.

Darcy lifted the backpack and slung it over her shoulder, turning to see that he'd followed her into the room. “That's it.”

He looked down at her, face unreadable. “You armed?”

“There's a gun in my backpack- it's an ICER.” He gave her a blank look. “Dendrotoxin, it paralyzes and incapacitates.”

Brock pulled his sidearm from his tactical belt and handed it to her by the barrel. “Keep it on you.”

She took the Glock, eyebrows going up as she looked down at it and back at his face. “Okay.” She checked the safety, checked the clip, checked the safety again, then tucked it into the waistband at the back of her pants, letting the cardigan she'd put on fall down to help conceal it.

“You keeping up on your hand-to-hand?”

She shrugged. It felt weird when the backpack brushed against the gun. She hadn't bothered bringing a holster out here, she hadn't thought she'd need one. “Yeah. Ward's not as good as you, but... He's bigger.”

His mouth pressed into a flat line. “At least he's doing something right.” He gestured with his head towards the door.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “We gonna have that super serious conversation you wanted?”

“At the safehouse.” A hint of exasperation rode the urgency in his tone.

“Fine.” Darcy felt a little bit close to tears, mostly because she was still a little raw. She didn't like not knowing what was going on, especially when it involved her so directly. Moving past him, she headed for the door.

He fell in step beside her, catching her hand as they went out into the hall. Brock took a quick glance in both directions before setting a quick pace towards the elevator, just a touch faster than his normal measured stride.

Jack came out of what was apparently his room, turning towards them and seeming a little surprised to see them both in the hall. Gray eyes flicked between them and he stepped out further into the hall so that he was directly in Brock's path. “Where are you headed?”

Brock came to a stop in front of the other man, gesturing to Darcy with a sharp motion of his head. “She's still a bit uneven so we're going to get some air.” So either he'd noticed and he was just being a giant dickbag, or he was making up an excuse to _Jack._ She wasn't really sure which option would make her feel better.

Jack reached out and ran his hand down Darcy's arm. “I can join you,” he offered, looking at her in some concern.

But Brock was shaking his head. “I need you here, Jack.”

The taller man looked between them, a clear question in his eyes. “You sure?” He seemed to be directing his question more to Darcy.

She felt Brock's fingertip skate across her palm, his nail scraping slightly over her skin. “Yeah. I'm fine, I'm just a bit sensitive right now.” She gave him a reassuring smile, wondering exactly what the hell Brock was playing at. He'd saved her life on more than one occasion and she _trusted_ him, but this was... Going to need one hell of an explanation.

Brock stepped around the other man, his hold on Darcy's hand taking her with him. She could almost feel those gray eyes between her shoulders and fought the urge to look back. They walked the rest of the way in silence, Brock's fingers warm against hers. “What the fuck is going on?” she asked in a low voice as they stepped onto the elevator.

He caught her eye and gave her the slightest shake of his head, which made Darcy roll her eyes and pull away from him, turning to look outside as their elevator descended. She clasped her arms in front of herself, not really focusing on what she was seeing.

Other people got on and off the elevator, and Brock moved close enough to Darcy that her shoulder brushed against his chest. They were the only ones still on the elevator when it slid below the several feet of concrete that separated the ground floor from the parking garage underneath.

The garage was one of the most surreal things Darcy had ever seen. It was a veritable ocean of shiny black SUVs, the only discernible difference between them was a letter and number at the back of each parking space. And license plates, of course.

They were in for a bit of a walk, apparently the vehicle Brock had keys to was some distance from the elevator they'd come down on. Darcy's footsteps echoed slightly in the vast concrete cavern, but Brock hardly made a sound. All of his years of training hard at work.

Eventually, though, he pressed the key fob and a vehicle just ahead of them blinked its lights and beeped a little. He got into the driver's seat, of course, and Darcy got in next to him. The vehicle was already on by the time she clicked her seat belt into place, and then they were moving.

It took about an hour of silence until Brock was finally slowing to a stop. Darcy had completely lost track of where they were going, and had instead played Candy Crush to pass the time. Now, though, they were in front of a red brick rancher in suburbia somewhere. Like, no shit, the neighbors' lawns had kids' things and gardens and shit.

She looked a question at him, and he just shook his head again. Sighing, she grabbed her backpack from the floor beneath her feet and got out of the car.

Brock was on the flower-bordered sidewalk just in front of her, leading the way up to a white-painted front door with a half-circle window at the top. He unlocked it and stepped inside, immediately turning to the codebox beside the door and punching in a code, presumably disarming the security system.

Darcy followed him into the house and shut the door behind her, looking around. It was sparsely furnished with an air of being barely-used. Brock held up one hand, fist closed, in a gesture for her to stay put, and she did while he moved about, his _other_ sidearm out and some sort of device in his hand.

“Clear,” he finally announced, coming back to her and holstering his weapon. “Come here, little girl.” He pulled the backpack from her shoulder and placed it gently on the floor, then slipped his hand behind her back to pull out the gun. His other hand closed over her upper arm, and he led her the few short steps to the living room's single beige couch.

He sat down, resting the gun on the floor beside him, then straightened and pulled her down into his lap. It was a little awkward with all of his tactical gear still on, but she managed. His arms settled loosely around her waist, and she rested her head against the back of the couch beside his, her ear against his shoulder. “If I'd known this was going to happen today, I wouldn't have pushed you so hard.” His tone made it sound... almost like an apology?

“What's going on?” She sounded a little bit lost, even to her own ears.

“You know about Hydra?”

“Kinda. Just... Evil Nazi thing that was wiped out when SHIELD was first started, back in... The forties? I want to say?” She shrugged, breathing in deeply through her nose. Brock smelled like sweat and guns and that indefinable scent that was specifically his. It was comforting, it helped soothe her raw nerves.

“Not wiped out. Jack's working for Hydra.”

She froze for a second before sitting straight up, her eyes desperately seeking his. “Uh, what?”

Brock reached up and stroked his thumb gently over her cheekbone, pushing back a stray lock of hair. “Hydra has infiltrated SHIELD at _all_ levels.”

“Jack's a Nazi?” She shook her head. That couldn't be right. Jack was _nice_ , not some kind of genocidal lunatic.

The ghost of a smirk covered his face. “Not exactly. He's ambitious, wants to succeed with the least amount of effort possible. Hydra's a means to an end.”

“I think I'm going to be sick.” Darcy's stomach was positively churning, making her glad she'd opted for a quick sandwich in Brock's bunk rather than a trip to the caf. “This isn't...” She squinted at Brock, completely focusing on him. “You're...”

“A mercenary.” He shrugged. “Hydra pays more.”

She scrambled off his lap so fast she fell, and only his hand catching her arm prevented her from a total nose-dive on the floor. Wrenching away, she scooted back away from him until her back hit the wall. She stared across at him, wide-eyed, wishing she had her ICER on her. There was no question that he'd be able to stop her before she reached her backpack. “This can't be happening.”

He was on his feet, his stance loose but balanced, like he was ready to pounce if he needed to. “Your specialist is Hydra too.” Brock's mouth pressed into a grim line. “Protecting his fucking cover ended up with you in serious danger. Ward's not nice, little girl, and he proved it by letting you get compromised like that. He knew exactly what you were walking into, just let it happen.”

“No...” Darcy shook her head almost desperately. “No. This can't be...” She had to get to New York. She had to get to New York and find a way to warn Coulson. She was dimly aware of a hot tear making its way down her cheek, and she dashed it impatiently away with the back of her hand.

“They're moving now. Fury's the first target.” His lips twisted into another smirk. “I had a feeling you wouldn't side with Hydra, that's why you're here. And you need to _stay_ here until things blow over. They'll be hunting you, little girl. You know...” His eyes searched her face for a second. “A lot of their shit. Jack's convinced he's the only one who can keep you safe.” He waited until she looked up to meet his eyes. “He can't.”

“And you can?” She loaded her voice with as much sarcasm as she could manage, shaking her head and brushing away the next tear that slipped out.

“You can. This house is mine. Not SHIELD's, not Hydra's, mine. There's food, water. Ammo. Play it smart, you can get yourself out.” Brock shook his head, considering her for another few seconds. “Better yet, leave SHIELD. Come with me.”

“Uh, I thought we'd established that my joining a Nazi group was kinda not happening.” Not ever. Without even going into the whole being Jewish thing.

“Not Hydra. Away from all of it. There's some serious shit going down, no one is safe. Good money in being a mercenary, and a pretty face is always useful.”

“Why are you doing all this for me? Because I have- what was it, 'the prettiest cunt you've ever seen?'” It was a bit of a ridiculous thing to say, and she knew it, but she lifted her chin and glared at him.

He actually smiled at that- _smiled_. “Partly,” was his response. “You change your mind, little girl, let me know. I'll be around.” He half-turned, keeping one eye on her, and left the house.

It was eerily silent when he was gone. Darcy pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, resting her head against the slightly-rough fabric of her jeans.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy needs a hug.  
> PLOT! It was a little awkward mashing the CA:tWS timeline in with AoS, but I think I have it nailed down. At least mostly? 
> 
> OH NOES! HYDRA!


	6. Chapter 6

She couldn't exactly stay huddled on the carpet for too long before her ass started to protest. It'd had a rough day. Instead, Darcy got up and turned her attention to exploring the house. She picked the Glock up from where Brock had left it on the floor by the couch, holding it down by her side. He'd already cleared the house, but having it there made her feel just a little bit better. And really, at this point, she was going to take what she could get.

The far end of the living room opened up into a spacious kitchen. The fridge contained nothing but bottled water, but opening up a few of the cupboards showed a large variety of pre-packaged food, both the kind that SHIELD used for field missions and the boxed kind you'd find in a grocery store. A small selection of cooking things and dishes... There was enough room at one end for a table and chairs, but the room contained neither.

Down the hall, the first door on the right was a bathroom. Folded towels... and the kind of shampoo Darcy used. She picked up the bottle off of the side of the bathtub and sat down heavily on the closed lid to the toilet, staring at it.

Brock had set up the house for her to use. He'd prepared his safehouse specifically for her. And she wasn't... Entirely sure how to process that.

They'd never been... Well... They respected each other. She trusted him- or she _had_. But they hadn't been particularly friendly, really, not like her and Jack.

After being basically kidnapped from her flat in London- SHIELD had a thing about kidnapping, apparently- Brock and Jack had taken her back to the US, with a quick swing by Coulson to make sure that she was who she was supposed to be. Wasn't that a fucking trip, Coulson alive again.

But then Darcy had met a very disgruntled Victoria Hand, who'd given her a choice: work for SHIELD or go under “protective custody.” And with choices like that, the decision hadn't exactly been difficult. So Brock and Jack had been assigned to her, both to keep her safe and to make sure she didn't start shit with anyone, drawing more attention to SHIELD than they really wanted. She was an “unknown variable,” and since she'd tazed an Asgardian, they weren't going to take their chances.

She hadn't started shit, though, she'd just... Done her job. Jack had been the first to really open up to her. After one of their earliest missions, he'd invited her out for a drink. She'd ended up playing pool with him (and winning), and they became friends, spending a lot of their free time together.

Brock was always just sort of... there. He was unquestionably in charge of their team, and Darcy had learned quite early on that he wouldn't take any of her shit. He was larger than her, faster than her, and he wasn't afraid to put her on her ass (or over his shoulder) if that's what it took to keep her safe. He was friends with Jack, and it seemed like they'd known each other for a few years, but it was really only recently that he and Darcy actually become anything like friends. There'd been some underlying tension, of course, a few mutually flirtatious remarks here and there, that intense look in his dark eyes...

But now he was working for Nazis because they paid more. And he'd set up his safehouse for her.

And Jack was actually just working for Nazis.

And so was Ward. That was... Not good. Darcy needed to get in touch with Coulson. Calling the Bus from her own phone was probably not the best idea. In fact... There was a suspicious lack of phone in the front pocket of her jeans. Brock must have taken it from her... on the couch? Maybe? On the one hand, that was good, it would have been another way to track her. On the other hand, _what the actual fuck_?

Darcy put the shampoo back down and went back out to the kitchen. She needed to be less out of it, and coffee might help.

Two cups of coffee later, Darcy was halfway through working up a really good mad. Her personal life had just gone completely sideways, but there was something a little more important going on. The rest could be dealt with later. If only payphones were actually still a thing, she could just walk outside and call Coulson and let him know there was a fucking Nazi-loving asshole on the Bus. Assuming they weren't looking for her yet.

Darcy reviewed the contents of her backpack. She had a few days' worth of businessy clothes, another pair of jeans, another shirt and another sweater. And that was it. Nothing that looked different enough from what they had on surveillance at the Triskelion to be an effective disguise, and no way to cover her head. No good.

She briefly debated the merits of visiting a neighbor, all, 'Hey I just moved in, boyfriend's in the military, our phone's out, can I borrow yours,' but if SHIELD/Hydra really was looking for her, that might not be the _best_ idea. Endangering innocent people wasn't exactly on her list of shit to do.

And that brought up another idea. She'd been quite obviously fucking two different Hydra guys, SHIELD might not exactly believe that she wasn't one of the Nazi-loving herself. Awesome. So that was something that would have to dealt with. Coulson would believe her, right? He'd know that she'd never...

Then again, Ward was probably the last fucking person Darcy would have suspected of having ties to genocidal fucks. Maybe Brock was right. Maybe getting the fuck away from everyone really was the best idea.

“No,” she said aloud, setting her empty mug back on the counter a little harder than necessary. She couldn't just ditch Skye and Jemma and Fitz... “Fuck.”

Wait. That was all she could do. Wait, and be ready to take the first opportunity to get the fuck out of town.

There was a TV in the living room, on the wall opposite the couch. Apparently Brock had thought to set up cable. She kept it on NBC News and spent a lot of time pacing and keeping an ear out for anything relevant to her situation. She did have a particular set of skills, one of which was wading through the bullshit on the news to find out what was really going on.

Two days after arriving at the safehouse, something happened, not exactly her big opening, but something that definitely registered as _important_. Darcy remembered that Brock had mentioned Fury was the first target, and while there were any names mentioned or anything like that, there was only one man who could have been the subject of that high-speed, heavily-armed chase that kept showing up. They were calling him a military criminal and/or domestic terrorist, which was the biggest bunch of horseshit in the history of horseshit. She actually got quite angry listening to the lies that the general public was being fed about what was going on, and the accompanying feeling of helplessness was worse.

Even moreso after _aw, shucks, call me Steve_ , was also announced to have gone rogue.

“My fucking ass!” Darcy shouted at the TV. “I can't believe you have the fucking balls to sit there and spout that astronomical amount of bullshit like you expect everyone to believe it!”

But. If they were looking for Steve, which every fucking member of Hydra _would_ be, it was her big chance. Although, if they were going after Steve, chances were pretty good that they would be going after the Avengers, too. Which meant her first idea of asking Thor for a ride to New York was probably out.

Which also meant Thor and Jane might not even be on fucking Earth for the time being.

Darcy let out a long sigh, her head falling back against the back of the couch as she considered the best way to go about this. Well, there was really only one feasible way- she was going to have to do some potentially shady things, and it might not actually work.

She needed disposable cellphones, for which she needed money. Of course Brock hadn't thought to leave any of _that_ lying around- she'd definitely checked. She needed new clothes, too. Too bad it wasn't raining, that would have been all kinds of helpful.

It wasn't too hard, though. She waited until after dark and set out on foot to the nearest Walmart. It was easier than it probably should have been to acquire some new clothes, guilt aside. But, it would be easier to secure the rest of the things she needed if she could go out in public with... well, less chance of being found, anyway. Not that anyone was probably concentrating on looking for _her_ , not with the entire country on the lookout for Captain America. But... Better to be safe or whatever, they probably wouldn't hesitate to grab her if the opportunity presented itself.

The traitor- what a fucking joke. Was it wrong to hope that America's patriotic jawline was going to beat the everliving fuck out of Brock and Jack? Like, even just a little?

She had new clothes, though, and she headed back to the safehouse for the night. Brock had left the security code on a piece of paper taped to the underside of the bed- she had to admit he was thorough, if nothing else.

The next morning, Darcy set out to secure a source of income. The trick was finding someone with enough cash to spare- an upper-middle-class misogynist dickbag would probably make her feel better. And, lucky for Darcy, she knew that that sort tended to frequent coffee shops on their way into their super important jobs. So all she had to do was get up extra early, get to a coffee shop, and do a little petty larceny. Well, maybe not so petty.

It was too easy. A low-cut shirt, pouty lips, and her very best brainless expression snagged her a wallet about five minutes after getting there. She did the dick a solid, though- after pulling out his credit card, she dropped the wallet at the coffee shop's front counter, all, “I just found this outside!”

Then she headed to a corner store, got a couple of disposable cellphones, and _then_ she went and got herself some lunch at a food place. She made a couple calls while she was eating. Coulson _didn't_ pick up his phone, and obviously no fucking voicemail or text messages to the secure fucking line on the Bus. “God-fucking-dammit, Coulson,” she muttered as she balled up her wax paper wrapper from her food. She'd wasted the fucking phone, too. She pulled the battery out before tossing them both into the fountain she was sitting at, then got up and made her second call on the move.

Jane, luckily, _did_ answer her phone. “Hello?” she asked, warily. Well, that was fair. It wasn't exactly like Darcy was calling from a familiar number or anything.

“Hey, it's me.” What would be the best way to talk about this in public? “So... I have a lot going on right now, and I'm coming for a visit.”

There was a pause. “Now's not exactly a good time.” Jane sounded like she was right in the middle of something.

“Oh, I know. _Believe me_ , I know.” She tossed the paper wrapper in a green metal garbage can as she passed it. “Like, I _super_ know.”

“Shit.” There was a few moments of silence. “Let me talk to...” There was a slight pause. “I can't call you back, can I?”

“Not in the slightest, no.”

“Okay. Yeah, come on up. I'll work things out.” Jane sounded worried, really worried. “Hey, can you even get here?”

“Oh yeah. I've picked up a few things with my new BFFs.” Darcy shuddered and actually gave voice to the groaning noise that threatened to come out. Yeah. “Oh, god.” Like, if Cap could just hit both of them on the head with his big-ass shield, just once...

“You okay?”

“I refuse to answer that at this time.” She glanced around, suddenly feeling very out in the open. “I gotta go. I will probably be there tonight. I'm not that far away.” She disconnected the call and took the battery out of this phone, dropping the battery in a cup of coffee that was sitting on a table outside the restaurant she was walking past, and the phone in the glass of water on the next table. Either the restaurant was super busy, or they needed better bus-staff. Yeah, like _that_ was the most important thing going on at the moment.

Darcy's last purchase with the credit card was a laptop, that she fucked around on so it looked used and then pawned for cash. And then she was on her way up to New York via Greyhound with just her backpack- extra heavy thanks to the _two_ firearms it contained inside. Taking a bus was a bit of a risk, but Darcy was a pro at avoiding security cameras, and a go-local-sports-team shirt and hat made her a nondescript college student. No one stopped her, anyway, and it didn't take _that_ long to get where she was going. Relatively speaking.

There were some people at the Manhattan bus station who were a little too stick-up-their-asses to be just normal travelers. Seriously, like Captain America was going to take the fucking _bus_ to the Avengers Tower. Whatever. But it wasn't a full team, it was just a few guys. All she had to do was wait for a suitable group of people and leave with them. It helped that the super-subtle guys were looking for someone a foot taller and also the opposite gender.

It was a little busier around the Avengers Tower, though. Getting in was going to prove tricky. SHIELD-Hydra-whoever were watching it super closely, a bunch of them weren't even bothering with street clothes. It was dark now, too, which meant that there was no pedestrian traffic in and out of the Tower to try and blend in with.

She could try and pass the night and come back in the morning, but that wasn't really.... a good option. The longer she stayed out in the open, the more likely it was that someone would notice her. Sure they weren't specifically there for her, but if she happened to just drop by, under that close of scrutiny, it was a pretty slim chance they'd just let her go. And there wasn't even a guarantee that there would be much foot traffic in the morning. For all she knew, the entire tower was on lockdown until this whole Hydra bullshit was sorted out.

Darcy became aware of someone walking towards her. She was already reaching for the ICER in her backpack when recognition stopped her. She'd met this man before, down in New Mexico. He'd been the SHIELD agent Coulson had assigned to them after the whole lab-stealing thing was over. He had a name, obviously, everyone had a name. All she was coming up with was the nickname she'd given him, though. “Muscles?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MORE PLOT! And the appearance of... MUSCLES. That may/may not be his actual name.  
> Thanks, as always, to ozhawk and her beta'ing fabulousness.


	7. Chapter 7

He looked a little different than he had in New Mexico. There were new lines pinched between his eyes- well, she'd heard what had happened to him, had seen what the same thing had done to Erik. He was in casual clothes, a purple t-shirt and jeans with a dark jacket open over-top. “Boobs.” Which was _totally_ what he'd called her. His blue eyes moved over her like he was checking to make sure that it was really her. “I'm here to get you in past them.” He gestured with his head to the nearest tactical-suit-wearing asshole.

“That's pretty awesome, 'cause... Otherwise I'm, you know, spending my night in a diner.” She was sitting at one of the outside tables to a diner, casually facing away from the tower. “And doesn't _that_ just sound super fun.”

“You're not going to be allowed to run around free in the tower right away- security precautions- but you'll be spending the night inside, if that helps.”

She nodded. It made sense, there was really no being too careful at this point. “Well...” Darcy raised her cup of long-cold coffee to him. “I sure hope you have a plan, 'cause my plan pretty much shorted out when I got right about here. I mean, I could get another one, but... Easier if you came prepared.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” He lowered himself into the chair opposite her, the complete picture of casualness, all leaning back with his fingers laced behind his head. “I don't know how proficient you are with vertical climbs in confined spaces-”

“You'd be surprised,” Darcy muttered.

He actually did look surprised at that. “That's probably the best thing I've heard all day. We're going to hang out here for a bit like you were waiting for me- they're not watching this far out that closely, but it'll register on someone's periphery- then we're going to do some climbing.”

“Huh.” She took a sip of her coffee, only remembering that it was cold _after_ the acidic taste was in her mouth. Making a face, she set the cup back down again, a little farther out than casual reach so that wouldn't happen again. “Excellent. That is definitely not something I could pull off on my own.” And, honestly, the sooner she was inside, the better.

“No, but you have to admit, it would be funny to see you try.” He had an easy smile, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners made her smile too. “We should stage a dramatic reenactment when we get back inside.”

Darcy gave him a look. “In order to reenact, you have to enact first. I'm not enacting.” He just shrugged. “What's, uh, what's your name, by the way? I'm pretty sure 'Muscles' is not on your driver's license.” She'd seen him fleetingly on TV a couple of times, she was pretty sure Thor had brought him up at least once or twice, but her mind was just completely blank.

“Ouch! Way to hurt a guy, Darcy!” There was a look of pointed injury on his face, but a glint of mischief in his eyes.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, whatever. Like Jane probably didn't tell you what my name was...” His shit-eating grin gave absolutely nothing away. “Seriously, Muscles, if I'm going to risk going splat in front of you, something to call you when I've broken my ankle and am swearing at top volume would be super-appreciated.”

“Clint.”

Her finger came up between them, pointed directly at him. “That's right! I totally knew that!”

He just shook his head. “What'd you bring with you?” He motioned with his chin towards the backpack sitting on the chair he was occupying with his feet.

“ICER. It's a... limited run SHIELD weapon, I guess you could say? I'm pretty sure my team are the only ones who have them at this point. It's a handgun. There's also a Glock 19 and some clothes.” She'd left all of the clothes she'd brought with her from the Bus at the safehouse, but there were a few things she'd, _ahem_ , acquired in the backpack with her weapons.

“Do you routinely carry not one, but two sidearms in your backpack?” Clint sounded faintly amused. “'Cause I am willing to bet at this point that you're not actually carrying anything _on_ you.”

She shook her head. “I carry myself differently when I'm armed. I didn't want to do that in such close proximity to all these shitheads.” Her eyes rested on the shape of a large man all in black, standing under a streetlight all as bold as could be. “I understand that, uh, they might not be entirely too happy with me right now.”

He looked at her for a moment like he was considering her point, then shrugged. “Just because you're SHIELD, or because you're, you know... you?”

“Specifically because I'm me.”

“But what's their beef with you, other than you don't share their fucked-up ideology?” He smirked a little. “Assuming that you don't, of course.”

Darcy made a face. “I assume it's the same reason I was brought into SHIELD in the first place. I know shit. Aliens, theoretical physics...”

“Do you actually know anything, though?” From his tone, he was asking as an actual question, not in a snide way.

She sat forward, resting her elbows on the table and combing both hands back through her hair. “Yeah. I mean, you don't 'intern' for someone for two years without picking some shit up. Not only that, but, I mean... Okay, I don't _know_ it's Hydra, but it's probably fucking Hydra.” She'd had some time to think about it. It was too big of a coincidence that the Clairvoyant would be pulling all this shit right at the same time that Hydra was rising again. “But they have this messed-up fucking program that basically forces people to do their bidding. They put, like, a bomb in your eye, and then a camera in your other eye, and make you carry out their fucked-up tasks. I have access to...” She pointed up to where the Avengers Tower dominated the skyline. “I'm pretty positive that Hydra would give their collective left nut for access to some of the shit in the R &D department.”

Clint took his feet down from the chair and rested his forearms on the table, leaning forward to peer at her. “So how do we know that you haven't already been compromised?”

“Well...” Darcy let out a long sigh, her hands spread across her scalp, face pointed at the table. “You don't. But... I'm willing to bet you have ways of finding out. Probably...” She pointed at the general direction of the building again. “Probably in there.” She was going to have to talk about the thing. Just... Not outside a diner with nothing but a cold cup of coffee sitting in front of her. “Assuming I passed the preliminary questioning.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, I think we've hung out for long enough.” She heard the scrape of his chair across the concrete of the sidewalk, and she looked up to see him standing there, looking down with a slight smirk on his face. “You ready to do this?”

Not really. “Sure.”

He picked up her backpack from the chair and slung it across his own back. Darcy was actually really okay with that. Climbing was something she'd picked up for her little, rappel-into-the-strange-ruins trips, but she felt a lot more comfortable doing it without an unbalanced backpack on her back.

His eyes were alert as they moved away from the diner, hardly staying still as they flicked around for possible threats. Clint was leading her into an alley, it turned out, and over to where a metal grate was slightly off-center. He pulled it up like it weighed nothing, prompting a, “Go, Muscles,” which earned her a smirk. There was a rope leading down into the darkness.

“They're not watching this?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“They don't know that there's actually an access point right into the tower down here, there _shouldn't_ be anyone in there.” She didn't miss the emphasis in his words. “Just in case, though, when we get down there, I want you to grab whichever weapon you're more comfortable with, keep it up.”

“Sure.” Right. Walking around in the dark, weapon ready. Just like any other op, right?

“How's your hand-to-hand?” Clint asked, prompting a startled look as his words recalled a very similar question from a very different person. “What?” His expression turned questioning.

“It's, uh... I've been keeping up on it.” And she really, _really_ wanted to punch someone in the face, which had to count for something.

“Okay. I'll go down first, make sure we're still clear. I'll tug twice when I'm ready for you to come down.” He lowered himself to the ground, and Darcy watched as he disappeared into the darkness below.

She was fidgeting a little as she waited, unable to keep her knee from jiggling. The idea that someone was going to swoop down on her out of nowhere was a pretty terrifying one. It felt like forever, but it probably wasn't even a minute before two jerks on the rope indicated that he was ready for her to come down. It was more than a little bit of relief for her to lower herself into the ground and begin her careful descent.

Clint was waiting at the bottom in a pool of light, and he handed her an unlit flashlight before turning his back to let her retrieve one of her weapons. She flicked on the flashlight and chose the ICER, pulling it out and then quickly zipping the backpack back up. While she liked the idea of junk-punching certain somebodies into the next millenia, the idea of lethal force wasn't something she was at all comfortable with.

He did something to the rope, and she heard the grate scraping down over their heads. A look at him showed he'd pulled out a firearm too, and had it up with his flashlight. She fell into the same ready posture. “I thought you used bows.”

“When I can. It didn't really seem practical down here.” He glanced each way and then started going forward.

Darcy moved along behind him, weapon out and ready, angled slightly so that she could keep an eye on what was happening behind them.

“Jane didn't mention that you knew how to handle yourself.” There was an unmistakable note of approval in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, SHIELD is, uh... I'm kinda like a field operative? Kinda?”

It didn't take too long to get where they were going. Clint stopped and did something to something on his wrist- she was forcibly reminded of Brock uncloaking the quinjet after most of their ops, but squashed those memories down.

There was some more climbing- up this time- and then they arrived in some sort of hexagon-patterned, metal-lined room that was suspiciously reminiscent of the Cage. There was a desk and two chairs, and Clint immediately took one, gesturing to the other just across the desk from it.

Darcy's eyebrows went up, but she pulled the chair away from the desk and settled herself down. “What's all this?”

“We are going to hang out until we get your baseline biometrics and make sure there's nothing in your body that shouldn't be there.” He opened a drawer at the bottom of the desk and pulled out a couple of bottles of beer. Cracking one, he handed it to her, then set his feet up on the corner of the desk and cracked the other one.

She nodded, settling back in her chair with her beer. “Don't get me wrong, I totally understand that this is a concern, but why arm me?” She held up the gun before setting it on the hard surface between them.

“Jane...” His mouth moved into a rueful grin. “She's pretty convinced that there's no way you would ever do the Hydra thing. In addition to being 'fiercely loyal' and a bunch of other great qualities, you're apparently Jewish? And I'm pretty sure I could take you, if I needed to. This is just a basic precaution, SI didn't become the leader in private security by taking unnecessary risks.”

Her eyes moved over him, and she shrugged. “You probably could.” He was about the same size as Brock, a little broader. She sighed. “This may be relevant and may come up at some point, but the, uh...” She made a face at her bottle. “So the two guys I was banging at the Triskelion, actually, were apparently Hydra.” She took a drink, then shook her head. “Well, no. One of them is Hydra, the other is a mercenary taking paychecks from Hydra.”

“Really?” Clint's blue eyes widened in surprise. “Out of curiosity, who was it?” He'd been a SHIELD agent- still was(?)- she could understand his curiosity.

“Jack Rollins, Brock Rumlow.”

“Rumlow, huh? He the mercenary?” She felt sharp, knowing eyes on her, and nodded. “That explains a few things. He always was a looking-out-for-number-one kind of guy.”

Her eyes raised to him. “You know Brock?”

“Yeah. We, uh... Same way you know him, I guess.” He shrugged. “He was a bit toppy for me. I don't mind being the bottom, but I'm not really _a_ bottom.”

Darcy's eyebrows flew up her forehead as she digested this. “Well. Small world, I guess.” She raised her bottle to Clint, and he knocked his against it.

“How'd you get out?” He took a drink, his fingers drumming idly against his thigh. He was a fidgeter, too.

That actually could be relevant. “Brock, actually. He, uh... Had a safehouse.” She found herself telling him everything, mostly in an effort to process. Meeting them, how she got into SHIELD, the whole being 'hormonally compromised' thing. To his credit, Clint actually listened. They'd known each other in New Mexico, acquaintances more than friends, but he made sympathetic noises as she purged her emotions and experiences.

“I'm sorry.” He shrugged, taking a drink. “It fucking sucks when your friends betray you.”

“Yeah.” Darcy busied herself with picking the paper label off of her bottle.

“Sometimes...” He was staring at his own glass bottle. “Sometimes we do shitty things because we don't have much choice. He got you out. Free and clear of all of it, I mean.” His eyes drifted up to her, watching her for a few moments. “Means something.”

She lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes squarely. “Are we... Having residual feels?”

“I don't know. Are we?” he asked pointedly.

Rolling her eyes, Darcy slouched back against the back of her chair. “Oh, don't be a shit.”

“You started it.” He was grinning, though. “So, what're you going to do now? 'Cause something tells me this is only a 'stop for supplies' type of trip.”

“Get the fuck back to my team. You know how you bond with the people you work with?” She made a face, her mind immediately jumping to the 'bonding' she'd done with Brock and Jack. She pushed it out of her mind, though, focusing on the more important stuff. There was a freak-out lurking in the back of her mind about that entire thing, but it was going to have to wait. “Because apparently our specialist was Hydra too, Brock told me. So that's a thing. Speaking of my team,” sitting forward, she rested her beer on the desk, “I could probably grab my baseline biometrics from the Bus a lot faster if you could let me near a computer.”

He grimaced. “No can do, Boobs. You know that. Don't worry, though, Stark is scary-good at breaking into things he shouldn't. Especially SHIELD.”

“I'm not sure if that's reassuring or not.” She picked her beer back up, more for something to do with her hands than because she actually wanted to drink it. But... If Stark was going to pull her records, chances were he would be able to see... “So, hey. Coulson's not dead. That's a thing, too.” All in. Secrets weren't exactly going to do her any favors.

“No fucking shit.” Clint stared at her, blinking those clear blue eyes.

“Nope. He's, uh... In charge of my team. He's the boss on the Bus. Yup.” Darcy nodded. “I think he's even technically my SO. Maybe. Maybe? SHIELD's not really big on the squishier sciences, which is why I picked up a bunch of wonderful new skills.”

He glanced up at the ceiling. “JARVIS- you got that, right?”

A disembodied voice answered, “Yes, sir.” That was... Unexpected. It would be naïve to expect that she wasn't being recorded, but she certainly hadn't been expecting an answer back.

“Make sure... Everyone hears that for me, will you?” He stared at Darcy for another few seconds, then his feet dropped to the floor. “That is interesting as hell. Because I bet... Well, we'll see. Beer's in the bottom drawer, help yourself. If you get tired, there's a blanket in there, too. The button on this side of the desk will pop a bed out of the wall for you. I...” Clint got to his feet, looking down at her. “I need to get to a meeting. This is going to be interesting.” He smiled at her and strolled out of a door that slid down on one of the walls, and slid back into place when he was gone.

Darcy had no idea what time it was. Her morning had started really early, though, and what with all of the adrenaline and constantly having to be on the look out, she was getting pretty tired. She pressed the button on the desk for the bed, grabbed the blanket out of the bottom drawer, and went over to go to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already, whaaaaaaat? Yeah, apparently. :D Clint was all, "HERE YOU GO!" Super thanks to superbeta ozhawk!
> 
> Muscles is Clint! That is a thing.


	8. Chapter 8

She was on her knees, her hands were stretched out in front of her, secured against something. She gripped it to keep her weight off her wrists, her fingers closing over something smooth.

Intense dark eyes stared into hers, she couldn't look away. Her hair was tightly wound around a fist, she had no choice but to stare at him- she didn't dare close her eyes. He was reaching out to her- one nipple was being pulled, twisted, the pain blurring together with the pleasure and sending heat directly down to her clit. Two fingers buried deep in her already-wet cunt, moving in tandem with the cock in her ass.

A blunt finger teased across her clit. They were driving her insane, playing her body until every nerve ending felt like it was on fire. There wasn't enough constant friction to let her come, she was starting to ache.

“Please,” she whimpered, and Brock's mouth turned up in a smirk.

“Not yet, little girl. Not until he does.”

The hand in her hair moved, turning her head all the way to the side. She had just a glimpse of piercing blue eyes before they were kissing, close enough that she could feel hot breath against her face.

“-Agent Lewis.”

Darcy's eyes flew open and she sat straight up, her gaze darting around the room as she tried to catch her breath and slow her heart rate. She was alone in the not-the-Cage room Clint had left her in the night before, her body still tingling. “Yes?” Fuck. Clint. _Fuck_. 'Cause Jack sure didn't have eyes that particular shade of blue.

“Dr. Foster and Prince Thor quite insistently wish to see you.” The voice sounded vaguely... apologetic?

“Yeah, that's... Great. Let's do that.” Darcy pushed the blanket to the side an got to her feet, pushing a hand through her sleep-mussed hair. They'd both seen her in a similar state of disarray before. Hopefully there would be a shower in the near future, though. And just, like, a pot of coffee for her very own.

The door in the side of the room opened, and somewhat to Darcy's surprise, _didn't_ close again, even after Thor and Jane were in the room. Jane was immediately squeezing the breath from her lungs in a big hug, then passing her along to her much bigger boyfriend for another hug, surprisingly less let's-squish-Darcy.

“I've been so worried about you,” Jane said as Thor set her gently her on the floor. “Apparently you don't exist anymore.”

Darcy's eyebrows flew up her forehead. She looked between the two, completely lost for words for a second. “Skye. Skye must have...” Fuck. So things had gone badly on the Bus, too. That was the only explanation. “I have to get back. I have to...” Do what, she wasn't sure. But she couldn't just hang out all safe and cozy in the tower while they were... Fucking Ward.

Her eyes fixed on the still-open door. “Wait. If I don't exist, why are they letting me out?” Like... She knew what had probably happened, but to someone who didn't know better, it could look like Hydra had done it for stupid Hydra reasons. Fucking Hydra.

“I've still got some of your stuff. There was enough for a DNA analysis.” Jane shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I might also have said some things on your behalf.”

From Thor's snort of amusement, Jane had said some things loudly and with great emphasis. “Thanks.” Darcy gave her friend another quick hug. “Is there a plan? I mean, I desperately want a shower and some coffee, breakfast probably wouldn't be a bad idea either, but... Place to stay? Maybe... Way to get out?”

Jane nodded. “We have you covered on the place to stay. We have a spare room that you are more than welcome to. Separate bathroom. The rest of it...”

“Clint is devising a plan,” Thor told her.

Awesome. He'd worked with Coulson a lot, maybe between the two of them, they could figure out a way to get her back there. “Great. Did you... say you had coffee?”

Jane gave her a wide grin. “I didn't, but I do. Come on, Darcy.” She hooked her arm around Darcy's shoulders, and Darcy leaned over so they were resting their heads against each other.

They all left the small room, Darcy grabbing her backpack on the way out. The inside of the Avengers Tower was as utilitarian as the Triskelion had been, at least until the elevator let them out on the floor Jane and Thor lived on. It was cozier here, homier. There was a large common area with insanely plush carpeting and furniture that looked like it would eat her and not let her up again.

The apartment was really nice, too. The furniture was large and sturdy, which... Thor was huge and strong, it all made sense. And the bed in Jane's spare room was larger than Darcy's entire bunk on the Bus. “I am getting so spoiled, sleeping in actual beds,” Darcy said, sitting on the edge of the mattress and bouncing up and down a couple of times.

Concern creased Jane's face. “Where were you before you were here?”

So Darcy told the whole story again, this time focusing on the emotional side of things rather than the technical specifics she'd mostly stuck with, with Clint. How betrayed she felt, how used... How she'd thought Jack was a good friend and he turned out to be... not. How maybe she was starting to have feelings for Brock that she'd been fairly positive were reciprocated, except...

Jane looked _pissed_. Like, just about ready to jump up off of the bed and go and beat the fuck out of some not-SHIELD guys herself. “Well, they better fucking hope they get killed or taken to jail or something, because if I find either one of them...” Her eyes moved critically over Darcy, seeming to take in everything. “Are you okay? Did you have sub-drop, do you need anything?”

“I'm okay.” Darcy sighed, making a face. “I'm just... Like, how could I be so stupid, you know?”

“Oh, Darcy...” Jane wrapped her arm around Darcy's shoulders again. “They fooled everyone. No one saw this coming. Clint had no idea, and he'd been in SHIELD for years.”

“I'm not sure that really makes me feel better.” Darcy made a face. “I should shower, though. Thanks for, you know... listening.”

“Of course.” Jane gave her shoulders one final squeeze before getting to her feet. “There are towels in there.”

Darcy headed into the adjoining bathroom as Jane let herself out of the room. It was nice. It was familiar. Sure the actual layout of the place was different, but she recognized that bathmat, the faded green towels hanging from the rack, the toothbrush holder sitting on the counter by the faucet. It felt comfortable, homey.

By the time she was stepping back out of the spacious shower onto the fluffy bathmat, she felt a lot better. Pouring everything out to Jane had helped. The shower helped. Chances were pretty good that a cup of coffee was going to make everything practically perfect. Well, as good as it was going to get. Chances were _also_ pretty good that she and Skye were going to share a commiserating freak-out when Darcy got back to the Bus. _If_ , of course, there was still a Bus for her to get back _to_ … Fucking Ward... Maybe they could start a support group.

After getting dressed in clean clothes, Darcy went out to the kitchen. Jane was at the table, getting some work done on her tablet. “So,” Darcy said as she made a beeline for the counter, pouring steaming coffee into her favorite mug. “We've done a lot of talking about me. How are things going for you?”

“Good, really good. I like it here. I wasn't sure I would, you know, but... it's pretty much the best work environment I've had. I don't have to worry about securing grant money or meeting the rent or killing myself for someone else's arbitrary deadlines.” Jane looked happy too, as she sat at the familiar kitchen table. She looked relaxed, she looked... Well, she looked like she was itching to get back to her lab, the same way she did every time she'd been away from it for a while, but the pinch of worry that had settled between her eyes was completely gone.

“And you probably have actual sciency lab assistants,” Darcy replied with a grin. She knew what her strengths were. No matter what she'd picked up over the years, she wasn't an actual theoretical physics major, and Jane was probably a little relieved to have relevantly competent help in her lab.

“The interns are good. Most of them are over from Princeton, which is... interesting.” A good-natured grin accompanied her rueful head-shake. “But they don't give me too much shit. Not like some other people...”

Darcy stuck her tongue out at her friend. “Hey. I took my job very seriously, and part of that job was getting you out of the lab every so often. If I had to annoy you to do it...”

“What about now?” Jane looked down at her tablet. Darcy knew the other woman wasn't ignoring her, Jane just had a hard time _not_ multi-tasking. “Aside from all of _that_ , how's the job treating you?”

Darcy sighed. This was really the first time she could actually talk about it. Everyone on the Bus had fully drank the SHIELD Kool-aid and was all, 'SHIELD's my life! Yay!' Even Skye. Maybe even especially Skye. “You know, it's... Not what I wanted to do. I mean, it's not bad or anything, but, like... I have a tiny bunk. I do a little bit of everything and basically nothing because SHIELD doesn't have a branch set aside for the squishy sciences and I'm not a hard-science nerd nor a field-agent badass. I'm just sort of waiting to be shuffled off into some backroom in a base somewhere and forgotten.” She paused. “Well, I was. Now... I don't even know if there's going to be a base to be shuffled off to.”

“Okay, so why go back? I mean, you could just stay here.” Jane's brown eyes lifted to look at her, a small smile turning up her lips. “There is a whole department of SI for people with squishy science degrees. You could finish your degree remotely, and I'm almost positive you could get yourself hired here. I suspect Tony will actually _like_ you, which is rare enough that Pepper will hire you on the spot.”

“I know. And I've thought about it.” She'd had... a lot of thinking time recently. “But I have to get back and make sure everyone is okay. Like, this is serious. Like, super seriously serious. People are being killed over this shit and I can't...” Darcy let out a long sigh, watching the ripples across her coffee from the air currents of her breath. “I know you're safe here. This is probably the safest place on the planet right now, actually. And if it somehow became not-safe, I'm pretty positive that there's an exit strategy for you, right?” Jane nodded. “But my team... I care about them, and I need to make sure they're not dead. 'Cause that would fucking suck. After...” She trailed off, taking a long drink from her mug. “After, who knows? I might come back here.” She knew she'd be welcome any time, that wasn't even something that needed to come up. “Having an actual room with an actual bed, that might be kinda nice.”

“You don't have a bed?”

“It's like a shelf. Like, about half the size of the bed in your RV. It's kinda soft, there are blankety things.” Darcy made a face. “It's not so bad. The worst part is that there's not an actual solid door. Like, there's a door, but there's a space at the top and a space at the bottom, and no actual privacy. At all.”

“That sounds...” Jane grimaced, turning back to her tablet.

“Pretty much.”

Staying at the Avengers Tower, even for the short term, wasn't too bad. She sparred with Thor. Well, she sparred _at_ Thor, he was basically a brick wall and there wasn't really anything she could do to him, but she sure tried.

She fended Tony Stark away from the ICER. Fitz would probably be over-the-moon ecstatic that Tony Stark was interested in his tech, but without his _actual_ permission, she wasn't just going to hand it over.

And she kept trying to get in touch with the Bus. Nothing. Nothing at all. It was beyond frustrating.

It felt like forever, but it was actually only a few days before Clint asked Darcy to meet him at the building's extensive firing range. He was fucking with his arrows, doing something with the fletching, and he beckoned her over. “I think I've found us a way back,” he told her as she dropped to sit on the floor beside him.

“Us?”

“I'm coming back with you.” He grinned at her. “We think that someone should probably keep an eye on whatever what's left of SHIELD is doing. Should be fun for everyone.”

“Huh.” She watched him for a moment, his blue eyes trained on his arrows as he manipulated them with dextrous fingers. “Okay, so what's the plan?”

“We're going to Oregon.”

There was a significant pause while Darcy waited for him to finish the plan, but that was apparently it. “For the apple orchards and wine? If this is your idea of a romantic getaway, Muscles, you should know that I don't like going anywhere there isn't WiFi.”

He shook his head, smile turning into a smirk. “As it turns out, Coulson has a little piece of history tucked away in Oregon, and that's going to be problematic for him soon. Hydra took the Fridge.”

Oh, _fuck_. “Well. That's, uh... Great. So when are we going?”

“Tonight. Get your shit together, get suited up. We have a cloaking jet, and I have a friend who'll drop us off.”


End file.
